


Not Completely Cast Away

by ElizabethWinters



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:52:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 51,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7399516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethWinters/pseuds/ElizabethWinters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Clegg has been missing presumed dead since September 2010, this is the story of what happens when he turns up alive and well five years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

# Chapter One

  


David Cameron's last memory of Nick Clegg was of watching television footage of Nick boarding a flight to Rio De Janeiro in September 2010.

Since that time David had seen more clips of the once leader of the Liberal Democrats; several had been streamed endlessly, on every news channel, for months after the plane Nick had been aboard went down somewhere over the Atlantic with no survivors, or so it was thought until now.

The search had lasted months. Hundreds of square miles trawled for anyone who might be alive, and then, when the likelihood of finding survivors had faded, for the wreckage of the plane.

When all efforts had turned up nothing, David had reluctantly agreed to allow the search to be called off. Now he wished he had insisted it continue, although in retrospect there was no way they could have known the plane had drifted so far off course; they had been looking in the wrong ocean.

That had been five-and-a-half years ago.

  


When the sleek ministerial car pulled up to the nondescript military hangar, David stepped from it and was ushered inside the building by a gaggle of people, all clamouring for his attention.

They had managed to keep the news from the press, but that would not last long and David was eager to leave for somewhere more secure before they were inundated by reporters. He made his apologies to the assembled crowd and hurried away with the senior officer, not quite knowing what to expect.

Following the man into the room where Nick had been taken when his plane landed twenty minutes ago, David could not help but gasp in surprise; having pictured Nick as being pale and fragile, he was unprepared for the lean, alert figure who greeted him.

Slightly underweight but perfectly healthy, Nick stretched out his deeply tanned hand to shake David's, the crisp line of army fatigues clinging to his body. His hair was sun-lightened, the hint of auburn shades David had sometimes glimpsed in direct sunlight now visible even in the dimly lit room.

For a moment David did not speak.

What could he say? _I'm sorry. We should have looked harder, for longer._

But Nick settled the situation into a sense of equilibrium as he said, ‘David.’

‘Nick,’ David replied, an air of the automatic creeping into his voice. Nick's hand was thinner than David remembered; his handshake a little firmer.

Turning to the officer who had accompanied him, David uttered a few words of thanks. He could not now remember the man's name but that did not matter, he would find out later and send the proper letter of commendation to the man's superiors. Right now they had to leave before the ceaselessly hungry media learned what was going on.

Nick walked silently as David led the way back to the car, opening the door so Nick could climb in the back before sliding in next to him. After instructing his driver to take them to Chequers, David sat back, looking in Nick's direction and noticing Nick had closed his eyes.

_He's probably tired_ , David thought, and sat in silence for the journey, pulling papers from his briefcase and beginning to read through them carefully; his latest set of notes from Simon Hughes, the current deputy prime minister.

The footing for the second peace-time coalition government was more equal than the first had been.

The outcome of the election ten months before had seen the Conservatives lose seats, slipping down to 288. That, coupled with the unexpected victory of the alternative vote and the reduction in the number of MPs, once again meant no one party had the majority to form a government, and like the election before, it was the Liberal Democrats who were the kingmakers.

After five years of working together the news media had predicted a return to coalition between the two parties, but the Liberal Democrats, strengthened by their increased numbers and experience in government, had demanded more concessions as the price for their support, and with the ability to force the Conservatives into a minority government there had been little option but to agree to most of them.

Naturally the Liberal Democrats had negotiated with Labour, but that process had been soured when Ed Balls had been overheard on camera saying: “The liberals are more annoying now than when Clegg was alive.” It was the political equivalent of biting the hand that feeds, for Nick was an untouchable icon.

The number one point on David's list of 'don'ts' during the election campaign had been: _Do not say anything about Nick Clegg._

The word anything had been underlined three times.

If someone brought the subject up David simply said Nick had been a good and devoted politician, and moved on.

Now here David was with the very same man sleeping next to him, or at least Nick appeared to be sleeping until he opened his eyes and looked at David, silently watching every move David made.

‘Everything all right?’ David asked with concern.

‘It's just a bit... weird, you know,’ Nick murmured, leaning his head in David's direction.

‘I suppose it will be for a little while.’

‘Yeah.’

Nick closed his eyes again and David studied him intently for a moment; the lines on Nick's face were set a little deeper but he looked no older for the change, if anything he looked younger. His skin was tan and smooth, cheeks the faintest bit gaunt and dotted with freckles.

The buzzing of his phone interrupted David's thoughts, and Nick started at the sound, jumping away in the direction of the car door, obviously frightened.

David picked up his phone and looked at it, disturbed by Nick's reaction to such an everyday occurrence. There was a text from Simon saying his flight back from Paris had been delayed and he would meet them both at Chequers later that evening, and also the press had finally picked up the story but did not know where they were heading. Simon had instructed a party aide to put out a rumour they were going to Downing Street.

_Good job, Simon_ , David thought. 

The last thing he wanted was for them to be mobbed by reporters and photographers when they arrived. If Nick reacted with such shock to a simple text David could not imagine how he might react to the flashing lights of cameras and microphones being shoved in his face. 

A flutter of warm air rushed over David's arm and he turned to see Nick had switched on the air conditioning and was tilting his face into the breeze coming from the vent, expression serene as his neatly cropped but slightly overlong hair flapped against his forehead. 

‘Nick,’ David said, touching Nick on the elbow. 

‘Hmm,’ Nick hummed, not moving from where he was. 

‘Are you sure you're all right?’ David asked. 

‘It's cold in here,’ came the muffled response. 

David frowned. 

It had been, until Nick turned on the air conditioning, a perfectly reasonable temperature in the back of the car, now it was most definitely starting to get stuffy, and David could feel prickles of sweat forming underneath his shirt. 

Still, David reflected, Nick had spent over five years living on a near-equatorial island where the average temperature rarely strayed below 25°C, so the chill of the British spring would take some adjustment. He suffered the increasingly muggy feel of the car in silence, concentrating on his paperwork. 

  


At around four o'clock they arrived at Chequers. David was relieved to see there were no members of the press parked outside the gates. An aide greeted them as they stepped from the car, Nick pulling his army jacket tight around his shoulders to ward off the brisk chill of the wind. 

Once inside the sprawling country house David slipped gratefully out of his jacket and turned to Nick. 

‘Is there anything you want? Are you hungry?’ 

‘I'd like to sleep,’ Nick stated, a yawn stretching his features even as he tried to suppress it. 

‘Of course,’ David said. 

He led Nick to one of the bedrooms and hovered by the door for a few seconds before telling Nick to call one of the staff if he wanted anything else. Nick thanked him in a quiet voice and lay down on the bed, wrapping himself, still fully-clothed, in the blankets. David closed the door and walked away, checking the time on one of the wall clocks. He would be able to squeeze in a few more hours of work before Simon arrived. 

As David sat down at a heavy, oak desk another text message arrived, this time from George and telling him someone had leaked 'Clegg' was at Chequers; he should expect the press to show up any time. 

Sighing, David set his notes aside and began to prepare a short statement he could deliver at the door, hopefully without disturbing Nick, who he was genuinely worried about. 

Nick had barely said a word since he had been found. By all accounts he had answered any questions put to him in four or five words and spent most of the time during the multiple plane journeys it had taken for him to return to the UK sitting in silence. It was a worrying development for a man who David remembered as fiercely animated, almost excessively so. 

David could not even begin to comprehend the effects of five-and-a-half years of total isolation, but it must have gone some way to explaining Nick's behaviour: the quietness and the alarm at unexpected noises. It would get better with time, David was sure of that, but what he was not sure of was just how much time it would take. 

By five-thirty a horde of reporters were swarming outside. David switched on the television to get an idea of the general mood among the many media sources, and to learn how much they already knew of what had happened. Very little, it seemed; so far, only that Nick was alive and at Chequers with David, and David had personally collected Nick from Halton air force base earlier in the day. 

Speculation as to where Nick had been was rampant, with everything from kidnapped to faking his own death being given an airing. 

The sooner David got out there the better, but he was waiting for Simon to arrive so the Liberal Democrat leader could also say a few words. They never usually made joint statements but this occasion was exceptional enough for that rule to be broken. 

In a series of texts David agreed the general message they would deliver to the waiting reporters. Both of them would urge for Nick's privacy to be respected, although David did not hold out much hope the request would be heeded and had already arranged with George for Nick to stay at Dorneywood should the situation get out of hand; the large grounds were closed to the public and only one part of the gardens was visible from the roads that ran around the house. 

  


At five to six Simon arrived, his car making its way slowly past the throng of people amidst the flashing of cameras and shouts of questions. 

David stepped outside to greet him, shaking his hand firmly and taking note of the grim, weary set of the other man's face. With the formalities done, David turned to face the press, urging for quiet by raising his hand, then he began to speak. 

‘Good evening. As you are all now aware, two days ago Nick Clegg was discovered alive on the remotest of the Cook Islands, Penrhyn. The discovery was made by group of tourists who chartered a flight to the uninhabited island with Air Rarotonga. Nick Clegg arrived back in the UK this afternoon and is currently resting. I would ask that members of the press grant him the privacy he deserves in the coming days. An investigation into the search and rescue operation carried out in 2010 has been launched and a full statement will be released shortly. Thank you.’ 

David stepped back a little and waited as Simon delivered his own statement; short, to the point, and expressing gratitude Nick was safely back in the UK. 

Ignoring the shouted questions from the reporters at his back, David walked with Simon into the house. 

‘How is he?’ Simon asked as soon as the door was closed. 

‘He's... quiet,’ David said with a frown. ‘Very quiet.’ 

‘Physically?’ Simon questioned. 

‘A little underweight,’ David explained, ‘but not dangerously so. I'm far more worried about his mental state.’ 

‘It's bound to be difficult for him,’ Simon remarked, moving to a chair and sitting down. ‘Is he awake?’ 

‘I don't know. I should check on him, he has been asleep since we arrived.’ 

Simon pulled out his phone as it buzzed the arrival of a flurry of messages. ‘I'd better take care of these. Half the party have been calling since the plane landed.’ 

As he walked away David heard Simon begin speaking, explaining Nick was all right. 

When he reached the bedroom where he had left Nick two hours earlier, David knocked quietly, not wanting to wake Nick if he was still sleeping. There was no reply, so David opened the door and peered inside. Nick was not there. 

Stepping fully inside the room, David switched on the overhead light. He made his way to the empty bed and looked around, spying a bundle of cloth on the floor, out of sight of the door, and he walked around to the other side of the bed and looked down. 

The clothes Nick had been wearing were lying in a heap on the carpet. Next to them Nick was half-wrapped in the blankets, face buried almost entirely beneath a pillow, wearing nothing but his trousers. 

David stared, eyes wandering along Nick's back to his shoulders. Nick looked strong, muscled in a way David had not expected him to be; the leanness of his appearance while dressed hiding the physical fitness so apparent now, even when Nick was relaxed in sleep. 

‘Nick,’ David said softly. He did not really want to wake Nick but thought he deserved to know Simon had arrived. Nick did not stir, so David reached down and gently shook him by the shoulder. 

‘Nick.’ 

‘Huh,’ Nick gasped, waking with a jolt and looking out from under the pillow. ‘What?’ 

‘I thought you would want to know Simon is here,’ David explained quietly, standing upright again as Nick sat up, the blanket falling away to his waist. 

‘Be right there,’ Nick said, rolling first one shoulder and then the other. He ran one hand across a faded scar on his upper torso and grabbed for his discarded clothes. 

David nodded and left the room so Nick could dress in privacy. 

Barefoot, wearing nothing more than his trousers and t-shirt, Nick emerged from the bedroom and made his way to the room where David and Simon were sitting. Simon stood up and walked over, hugging Nick to him as he welcomed him home, and David could not help but notice the look of discomfort on Nick's face at the physical contact; it passed quickly, but David got the impression Nick was deliberately trying to hide it. 

‘How are you?’ Simon asked as he let go of Nick and stepped back. 

‘Fine. Fine,’ Nick replied, smiling in a way that looked a little forced. He sounded faintly irritated, and David wondered how many times Nick had been asked that particular question over the past two days. 

Unable to hold back an involuntary laugh, David saw Nick looking at him over Simon's shoulder, the smile on his face seeming more genuine for a fraction of a second before it disappeared entirely. 

‘I can't stay,’ Simon told Nick, drawing his attention away from David. ‘I'm due in Manchester for nine o'clock and I'm already going to be late.’ 

Nick nodded silently, and David studied him carefully, but if Nick would rather Simon stayed it did not show on his face. 

Squeezing Nick on the shoulder, Simon promised to visit the following evening before bidding David a quick farewell and heading for the door. David heard a din of voices coming from beyond the hallway as Simon stepped outside. They faded when the front door closed. 

Nick sank onto an armchair and let out a long sigh, rubbing his face wearily. 

‘I'm sick of people asking if I'm OK,’ Nick mumbled, looking down at the floor. ‘It's all I've heard for the last two days.’ 

‘Sorry,’ David said, not knowing what else to say, and surprised at Nick's sudden splurge of words. Nick continued as though David had not spoken. 

‘Of course I'm not OK. Everything here is so loud.’ 

For a few seconds Nick raised his head and looked at David, brow creased, then he stared at the floor again. 

‘Sorry. You probably don't want to hear this.’ 

‘If you want to talk about it,’ David offered. Nick shook his head. 

‘No. I am hungry though.’ 

‘I can cook something. What do you fancy?’ David asked, getting to his feet. 

‘Anything but fish,’ Nick replied. ‘I'm sick of fish.’ 

David laughed, and quickly clamped his hand over his mouth, but then he saw Nick smile and felt reassured. Letting his arm fall back to his side, David started to make his way toward the kitchen. 

‘Come and choose something,’ he said, waiting until Nick stood up and began to follow him. 

  


In spite of Nick choosing the meal, when they sat at the table Nick did little more than push the food around his plate, seemingly unenthused, eating barely a third of it before abandoning his cutlery and returning to his earlier silence. 

David poured a cup of tea and slid it across the table to where Nick was sitting, watching silently as Nick eyed the cup before him. After a few seconds Nick put his hands around it and picked it up, taking a tentative sip, followed by another, then another. 

Closing his eyes, Nick seemed to forget David was there, tilting the cup and draining it in a series of gulps; sighing as he lowered the cup back to the table and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. When he opened his eyes and saw David looking at him, Nick fiddled with the handle of the cup in embarrassment. 

‘Good tea,’ Nick mumbled. 

‘So I guessed,’ David replied. He smiled and added, ‘More?’ 

‘Please.’ 

Nick passed his empty cup to David and waited while David poured him fresh tea. He drank the second cup slower, watching David self-consciously over the rim as he did so and reminding David of a possessive hound that expected its food to be snatched away. 

It was an odd reaction to a cup of tea, David thought, especially when Nick had left his dinner half-eaten; David tried not to stare. 

When he was finished, Nick set his cup down. 

‘Do you mind,’ he said, toying with his cutlery, ‘if I go back to bed?’ 

Shaking his head, David replied, ‘Not at all.’ 

A look of relief spread across Nick's face as he stood up, pushing his chair back and walking swiftly in the direction of the stairs. 

Alone, David finished the last of his meal and cleared the plates from the table, frowning as he observed how little Nick had eaten. He scraped the leftovers into the compost caddy and set the plates in the dishwasher, closing the door and leaving it without running the cleaning cycle. It would wait until morning. 

While he finished reading his notes from Simon, David turned on the news, listening to the reactions to his and Simon's statements earlier in the evening. 

The BBC had dragged out a psychologist, who was currently explaining to the female newsreader how Nick might have been affected by five years of social isolation. David turned from his notes to watch. 

Anxiety, depression, panic attacks – none of it sounded good, and some of it was starting to become apparent in Nick's behaviour. 

David picked up his phone and dialled a number, making arrangements for a doctor to call the following day under the pretence of wanting Nick's physical condition evaluated; expressing concern over the phone that Nick was underweight and not eating well. 

With that done David switched off the television and left his notes unfinished. It had been a long day. David intended to catch up on as much sleep as he could before the Easter recess ended and parliament dominated his time again. 

It had been difficult enough to arrange for the time to stay at Chequers until Friday night when he had to catch a flight to Germany – near impossible at such short notice – but he had put his foot down and insisted, not wanting Nick to feel isolated in the large house. 

David walked along the ornate hallway toward the master bedroom, noticing as he passed that Nick had left the door to his room open and had once again opted to sleep on the floor between the bed and the window. He resolved to ask Nick if his bed was uncomfortable in the morning, donned his pyjamas, and slid beneath the covers, stretching out his arm to switch off the lamp at his side. 

Within a few minutes he was fast asleep. 

  


Waking in the middle of the night was starting to become a frequent thing as David got older, and his doctor had assured him it was perfectly normal. What was not normal was his being _woken_ by a forty-nine-year-old man, who was shaking his shoulder with a hand that was as cold as ice cubes. David flinched away from the chill and blinked up at Nick sleepily. 

‘Nick? What's wrong?’ 

‘I've lost the ocean,’ Nick said, his voice slow and dozy. 

‘What?’ David asked, rubbing a hand across his eyes in confusion. Nick did not answer, and David rolled to one side to turn on the light. 

Nick was standing next to the bed wearing his trousers, staring vacantly at the other side of the room. Sitting up, David waved a hand in front of Nick's face and waited for a reaction. 

When none came he sighed and got out of bed, intending to direct Nick back to his room as gently as he could without waking him. He put a hand on Nick's shoulder and immediately pulled it away again. 

‘Nick, you're freezing!’ he exclaimed. 

The cry drew no reaction from Nick, who continued to stand glassy-eyed and expressionless. David quickly took hold of his blanket and wrapped it around Nick's shoulders, then he urged Nick carefully toward the door. Nick followed the silent instruction, plodding along in front of David, down the hallway and back to his own room. 

Once there David picked Nick's pillows up from the floor and placed them on the bed, then he pushed Nick's sleeping form onto the mattress, gathering up the rest of the blankets and settling them over Nick to warm him further. 

Nick shuffled down under the cloth with a murmur until only the top of his head was poking out while David fussed over him, tucking the edges of the blankets as close to Nick's body as they would go. 

David rubbed his face as he left the room, closing the door firmly behind himself. He made a mental note to speak to the doctor about the episode of sleep walking and returned to his room before he realised he now had no bed-covers. With a sigh David went to retrieve some more, noticing it was almost three in the morning. 

New blanket collected, David settled back down in his bed and stretched his limbs as he made himself comfortable. Lying in the dark he hoped Nick would sleep the rest of the night, or at least that he would remain in his room instead of wandering the house looking for the ocean. 

Something about what Nick had said troubled David more than the rest of Nick's behaviour. He could understand the difficulty Nick must be having at being around people again and adjusting to not having to fend for himself, but for Nick to be actively seeking the place where he had spent the past five years, even in sleep, made David feel worried. 

Nick had not said he could not find the ocean, but he had lost it, and David had an unshakable sense there was a deeper meaning to those words; that Nick felt, deep down, he had _lost something_ with his return to civilisation. 

There was something else along with that, which David could not place, something more tangible than any subconscious revelation Nick might have made about how he was feeling. 

As David began to drift off to sleep he turned onto his side, kicking his blanket away slightly as he started to feel a little too warm to be covered by it completely. It was then the thought registered in David's head, seconds before he slipped into unconsciousness: Just how had Nick got so cold in the first place?


	2. Chapter 2

# Chapter Two

  


David waited impatiently in the main reception room as the doctor spoke with Nick. He felt like a nervous father-to-be in a hospital waiting room, hoping for good news and dreading it would be bad. 

When the doctor had arrived at nine-thirty-five, Nick had not yet come downstairs. Although awake he had stayed in his room, which was where David had shown the doctor, leaving the men alone and pretending he had not seen the worried look on Nick's face as he closed the door. 

It was now over an hour later, and while David was comforted by the fact Nick had not told the doctor to leave, and there had been no request for Nick to be transported to a hospital, David was growing increasingly agitated. 

What was taking so long? 

At twenty past eleven, just as David was starting to contemplate knocking on Nick's door, the doctor walked into the room. 

‘Mr Cameron,’ he said politely. ‘Do you have a few minutes available so we may talk?’ 

‘Of course,’ David replied. He gestured to an empty chair across from where he was sitting. ‘Have a seat.’ 

The doctor sat down, putting his bag at his feet and reaching forward to retrieve a prescription pad from within. He scribbled quickly on the top sheet as he spoke. 

‘I am prescribing something for Mr Clegg,’ he explained. ‘These should help him to feel less anxious. I recommend he begin taking them as soon as possible.’ 

‘I'll have someone collect them today,’ David said, taking the prescription when it was handed to him. 

‘Good,’ the doctor nodded. ‘I am also referring Mr Clegg to a colleague of mine, Arthur Rimbaugh.’ 

‘Is Nick all right?’ David asked. 

‘He is around fifteen pounds underweight, although I expect he will gain it back quickly and for the moment I am not concerned. Dr Rimbaugh is a psychologist. I think it would benefit Mr Clegg to speak to someone impartial.’ 

Nodding his understanding, David watched the doctor write a name and telephone number on a small card. 

‘I will stress to him it is of some urgency but if he does not contact you by Monday he can be reached at this number,’ the doctor said, handing the card to David and sitting back in his chair. ‘Now, I understand you have some concerns?’ 

‘Yes,’ David answered. ‘I wonder if I might ask you a few questions about his behaviour?’ 

‘Things you have observed?’ the doctor asked. 

‘Yes,’ David repeated. ‘I am concerned about his appetite.’ It seemed the simplest way to start, although David's main worries were for Nick's state of mind. ‘He doesn't eat very much.’ 

‘I would not be too concerned about that, Mr Cameron. Given Mr Clegg's physical state it is likely he does not have the stomach capacity for large meals. I would suggest you offer him smaller portions at more regular intervals, and also you do not push for him to eat more than he is able.’ 

‘I shouldn't worry, then?’ 

‘As long as he is eating, no,’ the doctor said. 

‘Okay.’ David sat in silence for a moment before speaking again. ‘There is something else you might be able to help with. Last night he sleep walked. I don't know for how long, but he was outside long enough to get extremely cold.’ 

The doctor listened attentively as David explained what had occurred, and David's subsequent discovery, on waking that morning, of the open door that led to the gardens and the set of muddy footprints on the floor. 

‘It is not unusual in times of stress,’ the doctor replied when David stopped speaking. ‘Mr Clegg has been through a lengthy ordeal and it will take time for him to adjust.’ 

‘Is there nothing you can do to stop it from happening again?’ David asked. 

‘I'm afraid all we can do is work on the underlying causes for the sleep walking. Once those are dealt with it will cease of its own accord.’ 

‘And in the meantime?’ 

‘In the meantime the only thing you can do is prevent Mr Clegg from causing himself injury. Locking the doors of a night and removing his access to the keys would be a logical place to start.’ 

‘I'll see to it personally. Is there anything else I can do?’ 

‘Just be vigilant, Mr Cameron, and return Mr Clegg to his bedroom if you find him wandering,’ the doctor said. He glanced down at his watch. ‘If you have any other questions, Mr Cameron, I can be reached at my office.’ 

‘Yes, thank you. And thank you for coming at such short notice.’ David stood up, waiting until the doctor had picked up his case before reaching out to shake his hand.

  


When he had shown the doctor to the door David sat back down and looked at the prescription he had been given for Nick. It was for something called _Hydroxyzine_. He called for a member of staff and instructed them to go to Aylesbury and collect it, reminding them to be discreet. 

Walking to the kitchen with his blackberry in his hand, David set some water to boil in a saucepan and debated for a moment whether to boil one egg or two; maybe one would not be enough for Nick, but two might be too many. He settled for one egg and two slices of toast; he could always make more if Nick was still hungry. 

In the three minutes it took for the egg to cook, David sent a text message to Simon updating him on the situation, found a wooden breakfast tray and set a glass of orange juice on it, and put two slices of wholemeal bread into the toaster, pressing the handle down firmly. Then he drained the water from the saucepan and left it to cool while he made a cup of tea. 

Piling everything onto the tray, he picked it up and headed for Nick's room. Ordinarily David would not have considered taking the breakfast to Nick, but as it seemed Nick was reluctant to come downstairs, David thought Nick eating at least something was more important than where he ate it. He knocked on the door and waited for Nick to answer, hoping Nick had not gone back to sleep after the doctor had left him. 

Muffled footsteps sounded and then the door opened and Nick peered cautiously around it. 

‘Oh, David,’ Nick said, sounding a little surprised. 

‘I thought you might like some breakfast,’ David said, gesturing the tray forward in Nick's direction. 

‘You didn't have to do that.’ 

Nick stepped back and opened the door fully, taking the tray from David's hands and moving across the room to put it on a dressing table in the corner. He left it there, turning his back on it as though uninterested. 

David opened his mouth to ask if Nick was not hungry, but closed it again as he remembered the doctors comments about not forcing Nick to eat. 

‘Is there anything you need?’ David asked instead. 

‘I–’ Nick looked at the floor in apparent embarrassment. ‘I don't have any clothes,’ he mumbled. ‘These are comfortable but I've been wearing them since Tuesday.’ 

‘I'm sorry. I thought they would have done something about that before we got here,’ David said apologetically. He took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts list until he found the number for the aide he had sent to Aylesbury. ‘What size are you?’ 

‘I don't actually– I don't know,’ Nick confessed. He smiled at David. ‘Smaller than I used to be, I'd imagine.’ 

‘Just a bit,’ David replied, returning Nick's smile as he held his phone to his ear and waited for an answer. ‘Come here.’ 

‘Why?’ 

‘Unless you have any better ideas, I'm going to look at the label in the back of your trousers,’ David explained. ‘But if you'd rather walk around dressed like a squaddie the entire time you're here.’ 

‘I'm sure you wouldn't complain if I did,’ Nick smirked as he walked over and turned his back to David. 

‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ David protested, fumbling with Nick's top. 

‘Of course not,’ Nick responded with mock sarcasm, bunching his t-shirt up a little with his hands, holding it out of the way. ‘Can you just look, this is very strange.’ 

‘Hm,’ David murmured as he flipped the back of Nick's waistband down to read the tag, ‘I don't know what you expected, since you seem to think I am obsessed with uniforms.’ 

‘Oh is that it,’ Nick said. David quickly noted the measurement of Nick's trousers and stepped away. Nick turned around. ‘And here I thought you just wanted to get into my trousers.’ 

‘Really?’ David held up his hand as a female voice answered the call he was making. He quickly asked the aide if they would be able to get Nick some new clothes and told her Nick's size. Thanking the aide as he finished the call, David slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked at Nick. ‘I think you'll find I'm trying to get you _out_ of your trousers and into some clean ones.’ 

‘Ah,’ Nick chuckled, ‘Seems we have a common goal.’ 

‘Getting you out of your trousers?’ David teased, feeling pleased when Nick laughed, and even more so when Nick strolled across the room and plucked up a piece of toast, biting into it. 

‘Need food,’ Nick said between mouthfuls. ‘Today has been a very odd one so far.’ 

‘I hope I haven't made it any worse.’ 

‘You haven't.’ Nick sat down on the stool in front of the dressing table. ‘It's good to be treated normally for a change, although I can't say I think you having your hand down my trousers is normal.’ 

‘I'll try not to make a habit of it,’ David laughed. 

‘Make a habit of bringing me breakfast instead,’ Nick said. ‘This is delicious.’ 

Quickly finishing the slice of toast, Nick looked at the tray. 

‘I wish I could eat all of it.’ He tapped his hand on the dressing table, looking at the floor with an expression somewhere between apology and frustration. ‘I'm sorry.’ 

‘The egg may be offended, but I'm not,’ David smiled. ‘Must take some getting used to.’ 

‘Any meal I don't have to catch, skin, and cook myself...’ Nick trailed off, staring at the floor. ‘I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to talk about it.’ 

‘Why?’ David asked, frowning with confusion. ‘Did the doctor–’ 

‘No, no,’ Nick interrupted, ‘but it makes people uncomfortable.’ 

‘I think,’ David said, walking to where Nick was sitting and putting his hand on Nick's shoulder, ‘you can say whatever you like to me. If having my hand in your trousers doesn't grant you that freedom then I don't know what does.’ 

‘Back to my trousers again are we?’ Nick grinned. He shrugged David's hand from his shoulder without comment. David felt a flush of remorse at not remembering Nick's uneasiness about physical contact, but Nick did not seem to mind the hand on his shoulder the way he had being hugged, and there was no irritation in his voice when he spoke again. 

‘You seem a little fixated on them.’ 

‘I'm just jealous they won't fit me,’ David replied. He knew Nick was deliberately steering the conversation away from talk about his time on Penrhyn but he was not sure if Nick was doing so because he thought it made David uncomfortable. Nick evidently wanted to tell someone what it was like there, and David found himself hoping Dr Rimbaugh would get in touch quickly; perhaps Nick would feel easier discussing it with a stranger. 

‘If you've finished with this I'll take it away,’ David said, picking up the breakfast tray. Nick made a grab for the cup of tea, lifting it from the tray and holding it in his hands. 

‘Thank you.’ 

‘I'll bring your clothes up when Bernadette gets back from Aylesbury.’ 

Nick nodded quietly, drinking a mouthful of his tea, and David left to return the tray to the kitchen. He put the egg back into a saucepan to cook it until it was hard boiled. 

_No point in letting it go to waste_ , he thought. _I can have it with my lunch._

Stacking the used crockery in the dishwasher, David pressed the start button. He took out his phone as another thought occurred to him, and browsed to Google, entering the name of the medication Nick had been prescribed. Selecting the first link on the list that came up, David read with interest. He had expected something stronger, certainly not an antihistamine, which was what Hydroxyzine was. It was used to treat allergies, but also in the short term relief of anxiety and tension. 

Knowing that set David's mind to rest; the doctor obviously did not believe Nick's anxiety would be prolonged, and hopefully that meant Nick would recover quickly. 

David was draining the water from the saucepan for a second time when the aide returned. She handed him two Marks and Spencer bags full of clothes and a small paper bag with a chemist's logo on it. 

‘I wasn't sure what kind of clothes you wanted me to get so I got casual things,’ Bernadette said. 

‘Thank you,’ David replied. 

The aide left, disappearing back to wherever staff members went when not needed, and David carried the bags out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 

‘Nick, I've brought you your clothes,’ David called, knocking once on the door to Nick's room and walking in. He found Nick standing in front of the full-length mirror, pulling the collar of his t-shirt down and running his thumb over the faded scar on the left side of his chest. 

Nick jumped a little when he saw David's reflection, hastily settling his t-shirt back to order. 

‘I–’ Nick's mouth pursed into a tight line. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘Will you be coming downstairs after you've changed?’ David asked, keeping his voice light. He dropped the carrier bags on the bed. 

‘Yes.’ 

Smiling, David told Nick which room he would be in downstairs, moving to the door as Nick upended the bags and began sorting through the contents. 

‘I'll see you shortly, then.’

  


Showered and shaved, Nick walked into the main reception room wearing a pair of grey trousers and a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked more like David remembered him than he had in the army fatigues, and David smiled to himself, but then gave a puzzled laugh as he noticed Nick was still shoeless. 

‘Didn't they give you any shoes?’ David chuckled. 

Nick looked down at his feet. 

‘I, uh... They are still a little uncomfortable to wear.’ 

‘Oh,’ David said. ‘I can send for some horribly unfashionable sandals if you like?’ 

‘It's fine,’ Nick answered, perching on the edge of an armchair. ‘Unless it bothers you?’ 

‘No, not at all,’ David smiled. He sorted through the paperwork on the table in front of him, wondering if now would be a good time to speak to Nick about the episode of sleep walking the night before. 

There were other things of greater importance – the legal work to be done to reverse the coroner's verdict at the inquest, for a start – but David did not see much point in telling Nick the details of that, since technically there was nothing Nick could do and everything was proceeding smoothly. Sooner or later Nick would have to sign some papers, but that was a formality. 

David sat back in his chair, considering for a moment how to broach the subject of Nick's night time wandering. 

‘There is something we should talk about,’ he said cautiously, assessing Nick's reaction. 

‘If it's about the prescription–’ 

‘No. No. Not that. Although it is semi-related.’ 

‘Oh.’ Nick leaned forward, his face a mixture of curious and worried. 

‘You– Last night you sleep walked into my room,’ David blurted. ‘I sent you back to bed, but you had been outside, and you were freezing. The doctor said we should lock the doors at night.’ 

‘Seems sensible,’ Nick said stiffly, biting on his lip. ‘I didn't... disturb you too much I hope?’ 

‘I can't say I wasn't surprised, but you just mumbled something about the ocean and then stood staring at the wall.’ 

Nick sighed heavily and pressed his hand to his forehead. 

‘It's all right, Nick, really,’ David added quickly, not liking to see Nick so obviously upset. 

‘No it isn't,’ Nick whispered. ‘This is all just...’ Nick pinched the bridge of his nose and fell silent, and David's brow furrowed with worry as he once again had the sense Nick was deliberately not saying what was on his mind. He wished Nick would talk to him, but at the same time he did not want to push Nick into talking when he did not want to. 

Sitting silently, David almost did not hear when Nick spoke again, his voice so soft it was barely audible. 

‘Sometimes I wish I'd stayed there. I know I shouldn't but... I do. Things were very simple. Here I feel like I'm being watched the entire time.’ 

‘I'm sorry.’ 

‘It's not you,’ Nick said. ‘In fact I think you're the one person who I don't feel that way with, but I wish people would stop treating me like I'll break down if they even mention where I have been.’ 

Not knowing what to say, David drummed his fingers nervously on his leg. Nick looked up at him and laughed cynically. 

‘And now, on top of all that, I am sleep walking into your room.’ 

‘I can think of worse things to wake up to,’ David joked. He wanted to walk across the room and pull Nick into a hug, comfort him in place of words, because he could think of nothing to say to make things easier for Nick. 

‘Do you–’ Nick started to say, but then stopped, smiling a little to himself. ‘You don't appear to be traumatised for life.’ 

‘Give it a while,’ David laughed, wondering what Nick had intended to say before he changed his mind. ‘I might have a heart attack if you show up again tonight.’ 

‘Maybe you should send an aide to fetch me some pyjamas,’ Nick suggested. ‘I'd hate to kill the Prime Minister. Imagine the headlines!’ 

‘I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you.’ 

‘Spoil sport,’ Nick teased, seemingly forgetting his sombre mood. He sat back in his chair, ‘I'm keeping you from your paperwork.’ 

‘Yes, you are. Thank you,’ David chuckled. 

‘Oh, any time,’ Nick snickered, eyes glinting with amusement. 

In the dim April afternoon, Nick again looked young to David, in spite of the faintly greyed hair that glimmered in the light shining through the rain-dampened windows. 

David thought back to the last time they had been at Chequers together, the fine summer's day in July, nearly six years before, when they had, after the final Cabinet meeting before recess, bid farewell to the other ministers and retreated to this very room to talk about how they thought the coalition was working. David remembered offering Nick a drink, and his hand lingering on Nick's when the tumbler was taken; he recalled, with sudden, crystalline sharpness, the way Nick had looked at him, the tingle of breath against his cheek, and the soft, questioning mouth that met his own for one endless, precarious second. 

As he released a laborious, pent up breath, David allowed himself to acknowledge, and also to regret, the answer he had not been able to give was, and continued to be, _yes_. 

Did Nick remember that day? 

The hasty sweep of movement as they backed away from each other, the sharply drawn gasp of shock, and the words David had been about to say before a knock at the door stopped them from ever finding their way onto his tongue. 

It was ridiculous, of course, to miss something that had existed for less than the blink of an eye, but in that moment, as the half-forgotten memory found substance within, David did. He missed it, yearned for it with a ferocity that clutched at his chest and held it fast, until he could not breathe. 

Nick was staring at the window, watching the raindrops that pattered dully against the glass and meandered lazily downward, the line of his profile stark against the murky grey of the clouds and a slight upward quirk at the corner of his mouth indicating calmness, as though he drew comfort from the rhythmic drumbeat of the downpour outside. 

David suddenly longed for that too; that sense of peace from something so simple, so uncomplicated it could chase away a tumult of emotion as though it were nothing more than a speck of dust to be washed away and forgotten after a spring shower. 

If Nick did remember, and David had to concede, to himself if to no one else, he thought it unlikely, but _if_ he did then he had not indicated so, and surely his apparent ease with David was only because David was making such an effort in order for Nick not to feel pressured in any way. 

Though it puzzled David now, why he was going to such lengths to accommodate Nick. Was it more than wanting the other man to feel at ease in his company? 

‘When are you going to Germany?’ Nick asked, the question shaking David from the internal scrutiny of his motives. 

‘Tomorrow night,’ David replied, deliberately turning his attention back to the papers in front of him, using them as an excuse not to look at Nick but unable to keep to the objective for more than a few seconds. ‘I'll be back on Saturday. Will you be all right on your own?’ 

Turning away from the window to look at David, Nick raised his eyebrows, his expression so incredulous David could not help but laugh. 

‘Yes. All right. That was a stupid question,’ David admitted. 

‘No, no. It was perfectly valid,’ Nick grinned. 

‘There's no need to be sarcastic,’ David retorted, but he was smiling as well. 

‘But it's such fun, David.’ 

‘You know what they say about sarcasm. Lowest form of wit and all that,’ David smirked. 

‘Nonsense,’ Nick replied. ‘Believed only by those who have no skill at it.’ 

He waved his hand dismissively and rolled his eyes, and David put his head in his hand and shook with silent laughter. Peeking out through the gap between his fingers, David saw Nick get to his feet and smooth out the creases in his shirt. 

‘Is it safe to go into the garden, or will the press mob me?’ 

‘It's safe. I had them banished to the main road,’ David answered. 

‘In that case,’ Nick said, ‘I'll leave you to your paperwork for a while.’ 

David nodded. He thought briefly about asking Nick if he wanted company, but dismissed the idea; as much as Nick was a pleasant distraction from his work, he really ought to finish before Simon arrived later in the afternoon.


	3. Chapter 3

# Chapter Three

  


Friday morning brought with it an end to the dreary weather that had persisted since Monday and a flurry of activity as David finalised the preparations for his whistle-stop trip to Germany. 

When David had risen that morning he had found Nick already downstairs, deep in conversation with Simon, who had decided the evening before not to travel back to London as planned, instead asking David if he could spend the night in one of the guest bedrooms. David had consented to the request and excused himself to go to bed early, knowing he would not get much sleep while he was in Germany the following night. 

After grabbing a quick breakfast David had returned to dealing with aides and telephone calls, leaving Simon to his continuing explanation of the fortunes of the Liberal Democrats during the time Nick had been absent. Nick nodded attentively as he listened, sometimes with evident surprise. 

It was difficult for David to restrain his speculation over how Nick would react to the news that Sheffield Hallam was no longer a Lib Dem seat; Nick's successor having been unfortunate enough to lose to the Conservative candidate, Nicola Bates. It was a result that saw the constituency with a Conservative MP for the first time since 1997. 

At least it had not fallen to Labour, as David had often feared it might during the by-election campaign – though the fear was somewhat unfounded since the seat had never been taken by Labour, in spite of their presence in Yorkshire – but David could not imagine Nick being anything other than disappointed. 

As he packed a small overnight bag for his trip, David wondered idly what Nick would do now. Would he return to the world of politics? Would he return to life in the public eye at all? 

There would be, for some time yet, a lot of media attention directed Nick's way, but that would eventually fade. Inevitably the doings of Nick Clegg would be forgotten once the next big story hit the headlines; relegated to tiny articles on page seven or to online blog posts from interested parties. 

Unless Nick chose to be in the spotlight it was a reasonable assumption he would be able to go about the process of rebuilding his life without cameras and reporters following his every move. 

The question was whether that was what Nick wanted. 

David found himself faced with a certain reluctance to admit he did not know what Nick intended to do and, to a greater extent, he felt more than a little unwilling to think far enough ahead to what would happen when Nick left Chequers. 

While the country house was David's official retreat, and it was his prerogative to allow anyone to stay there, Nick could not remain at the house indefinitely. Eventually Nick would have to find a place of his own in which to live, because David could not invite him to stay in Number Ten without considerable resistance from the rest of the Conservative party, not to mention the media speculation that would accompany such a move. 

In any event, the Easter recess would be over in ten days and David would have little to no opportunity to spend time at Chequers, even if Nick stayed on as a resident after David's return to Westminster. 

The thought troubled David more than it should have, more than he considered appropriate, given the situation. He and Nick had not exactly been bosom buddies when Nick disappeared. Admittedly there had been a budding friendship and an undefined _something else_ that had developed between them in the months they had shared office, but neither of those things made David any more comfortable with the knowledge he wanted to cancel his trip to Germany so he could stay with Nick, nor did any of it feel like anything more than a vague sense of wanting somehow to shield Nick from the realities of the world he had stepped back into without any preparation. 

Caught deep in his thoughts David did not see Nick standing at the door to the master bedroom until Nick spoke to him, making David start so violently he knocked his overnight bag from the bed. He fumbled for it as it slid toward the floor, movements rapid and erratic. 

‘Didn't mean to frighten you,’ Nick said as he stepped forward. 

David picked up his bag and put it back on the bed. 

‘I was just thinking.’ 

‘Must have been something important. I called your name four times before you heard me.’ 

‘Oh,’ David breathed. He had not realised Nick had been at his door that long and hoped he had not spoken any of his thoughts aloud. To hide his worry, David asked, ‘Actually, I was wondering if you had given any thought to what you will do once recess ends?’ 

‘Simon tells me I don't have a house in Putney any more,’ Nick answered, sitting down on David's bed. ‘So I will have to take him up on his offer to stay with him until I find somewhere.’ 

‘You don't sound too pleased by the idea,’ David remarked. He placed the last few items in his bag and zipped it up, lifting it out of the way so he could sit next to Nick. 

‘I'm grateful for the offer.’ Nick turned abruptly and put his hand on David's knee. ‘And to you for letting me stay here,’ he added, smiling sincerely. His hand tightened on David's leg for a moment before he moved it away. ‘I was hoping for somewhere on my own.’ 

‘Notting Hill,’ David blurted, the idea occurring to him suddenly. Nick's face creased into a look of bewilderment. 

‘What?’ 

‘My house,’ David clarified. ‘It's not being rented out at the moment. You could stay there.’ 

‘That's very generous of you, David, but I don't think I could.’ 

‘Generous my foot,’ David laughed. ‘I'd expect you to pay rent!’ 

‘In which case I definitely couldn't. It may have escaped your attention but I don't even have a job right now,’ Nick said, sounding uncomfortable at the discussion. 

David knew what Nick meant; Nick's assets had been distributed among his heirs, and although some of the beneficiaries had been in touch with the solicitor dealing with Nick's case, pledging to return what they could, it was unlikely Nick would get much back. 

In a stroke of good luck David was truly grateful for, the sister who had been given the majority of Nick's personal belongings had called that morning to say they were in storage and Nick could have them any time he wanted. She went on to say she was now living in Australia, but hoped to return to the UK the following month to see Nick herself. 

‘I'm sure we could come to some arrangement,’ David said, smiling. ‘You Lib Dems are a trustworthy lot.’ 

‘David, I–’ Nick began, hand moving to emphasise the point he was about to make. David stopped it, holding it in his own. 

‘Think about it?’ 

‘Okay,’ Nick answered after a moment's hesitation, glancing down as he carefully removed his hand from David's grasp. ‘I should– I'd best get back to Simon. He's probably wondering where I have got to.’ He shot David a curious look before leaving the room, his gait more than a little hurried. 

David watched Nick go, bemused at the rapid departure and realising right then he had no idea why Nick had come to his room in the first place; it obviously had not been to talk about his post-Chequers plans. 

Slightly annoyed with himself for diverting Nick's attention to his own thoughts, David grabbed the overnight bag and left the room, intending to take the bag to the car. He had made it to the foot of the stairs when Bernadette rushed up to him. 

‘Ah, Mr Cameron, there you are,’ she said in a swift, efficient voice as she approached. She looked around the hallway discreetly, making sure they were alone, and then held a small, square box out in David's direction. ‘I bought this, as you asked. I trust it is all in order?’ 

Taking the box and opening it, David looked inside and nodded approvingly. 

‘Perfect, thank you. I appreciate your taking the trouble to get it.’ 

‘Quite all right.’ Bernadette smiled cheekily, her large brown eyes dancing with mischief. ‘I am getting used to these little covert missions.’ 

‘And they say there is no excitement in your job,’ David chuckled, unzipping his bag and putting the box inside, out of sight. ‘I'll be leaving for the airport soon. If Mr Clegg asks for anything...’ 

‘I'll take care of it. Try not to worry,’ Bernadette said reassuringly. She moved away, calling over her shoulder as she went, ‘Let me know if there is anything else you need before you leave.’ 

As Bernadette slipped out of sight a set of footsteps advanced toward the stairway where David stood, the sound echoing along the high ceiling of the room. David turned on his heels and went back up the stairs, ducking around the corner as Simon and Nick's voices resonated amidst the tapping of shoes. 

‘You know what it's like,’ Simon said. David stepped further up the stairs, satisfied neither man had seen him. ‘You will be all right on your own, won't you?’ 

Trotting quickly along the corridor in the direction of the master bedroom, David heard the muffled sound of Nick's reply; it faded as David moved further away. He closed the door when he entered the bedroom, turning the key in the lock and listening for the click of the mechanism. Nick would probably be busy with Simon for a few minutes but David could not risk anyone walking in. 

Unzipping the bag David fumbled inside for the box Bernadette had given him and placed it in the topmost drawer of the chest of drawers adjacent to the en suite bathroom. He would not need it for his trip, having already packed an identical box among his toiletries, albeit one which was almost empty. 

It was slightly farcical, the way he snuck around and relied only on his most trusted aides to get these, but David was fastidious in his secrecy. 

Only a few people knew he had taken up smoking again three years into the coalition, so his buying nicotine patches would raise unwanted questions, and questions would be tiresome, especially when he was well on his way to quitting for a second time. The first few weeks had been difficult but now David barely noticed the brief cravings he sometimes experienced. 

With the patches safely stowed away, David took up his bag again and unlocked the door. 

When he descended to the ground floor Simon had left, and Nick was sitting close to the fireplace pressing buttons on a smart phone. 

‘New toy? David asked, dropping his bag by the door. 

‘Simon gave it to me so he could keep in touch,’ Nick replied, his eyes never leaving the device he held. ‘He explained it to me, but I can't seem to – Ah! There!’ Nick looked up, beaming triumphantly. 

‘Figured it out?’ 

‘I think so,’ Nick grinned. 

In his hands the phone's screen lit up, displaying the welcome message. David recognised it as an Aura, similar to the model he himself had. 

‘Want me to show you how it works or can you manage?’ 

‘I could use a little help,’ Nick confessed. ‘It's very different from what I remember.’ 

David walked over and took the phone from Nick's hands, kneeling on the floor in front of Nick as he detached the earpiece from the casing. 

‘This bit,’ David explained, reaching up to position it over Nick's ear, ‘goes here.’ 

‘I didn't even know that came out,’ Nick laughed. He touched the moulded plastic with his fingers, exploring the way it rested against his head. 

‘You can use it like a normal phone, but this way is easier,’ David continued, swiftly clicking keys and adding his number to the phone book. ‘Now, what name would you like me listed under?’ 

‘You're putting your number in there?’ 

‘Unless you want to call Simon as a test, yes,’ David answered. 

‘No. No. You will be fine. I guess, David Cameron, then.’ Nick fidgeted in the chair as David clicked more buttons. 

‘Okay,’ David said when he was finished. ‘Now speak it.’ 

‘Speak it?’ Nick echoed. ‘I don't understand.’ 

‘My name. You have to speak it for the voice recognition.’ 

‘Oh,’ Nick breathed. David pressed a button on the phone and signalled for Nick to speak. ‘David Cameron.’ 

‘Right. Done.’ David tapped to save and handed the phone back to Nick. ‘This will only work when you are wearing the earpiece, but it makes phone calls simple. Say my name again and the phone will automatically call me.’ 

‘David Cameron,’ Nick said immediately. A few seconds later David's phone began to ring in his pocket. ‘Oh, that's amazing!’ Nick exclaimed. 

‘It is pretty nifty, I'll admit. Watch this.’ Taking out his phone, David plucked the earpiece from its casing and placed it over his ear. ‘This is how you answer,’ he told Nick. 

‘That's pretty scary, actually,’ Nick laughed, removing his own headphone and looking down at it. ‘I had you in stereo for a second there.’ 

‘What's scary about that?’ David asked, hanging up his phone and re-attaching the earpiece. Nick's eyes followed the movement of David's hands as he placed the phone back into his pocket. 

‘It was almost like there were two of you,’ Nick smiled mischievously, ‘and one is quite enough.’ 

‘I'm officially offended,’ David pouted playfully. He made to stand but Nick stopped him, putting his hand on David's shoulder. 

‘I only meant–’ Nick stopped, biting his lip. ‘I don't know what I meant,’ he confessed a moment later, squeezing David's shoulder through the material of his suit as he spoke, his thumb straying to the exposed skin of David's neck, caressing gently and sending a shiver down David's spine. 

‘Nick,’ David whispered, closing his eyes to the touch. 

‘I wish you didn't have to go,’ Nick said in a low voice. ‘It's stupid really, I spent so much time alone and now...’ 

‘Do you want me to stay?’ David asked without thinking, opening his eyes to look at Nick. He was relieved when Nick shook his head; getting out of his trip to Germany would have been impossible, he did not even know why he had offered to stay when he knew he would not be able to, only that the warmth of Nick's thumb against his neck was making it difficult for him to think clearly. 

The absurdity of the situation suddenly sunk in; here he was, the ageing prime minister, kneeling uncomfortably in front of his former deputy and offering to cancel an important meeting with a fellow head of state because said deputy was touching his neck. 

If David had not been so preoccupied in trying not to laugh he might have noticed his own hands had found their way to Nick's thighs, or he might have entertained the idea that flitted vaguely in the back of his mind that it would take only a slight forward motion for him to kiss Nick. 

Just as that thought was becoming more than an indistinct shadow Nick stood up and walked to the fireplace, perching precariously on the balls of his feet as he took up the poker and began to rake the embers. 

‘Cold,’ Nick said flatly. 

David turned and watched the amber light of the fire dancing along the side of Nick's face, feeling once again a sense of being pushed away, as though Nick was deliberately setting himself apart from everyone. Yet, and David did not know why, Nick seemed to crave the very closeness he was now avoiding. 

Getting to his feet David stretched his legs one at a time to banish the faint ache of his knees. 

A few more years and he would need help to get up, though at that moment he was glad he did not; for some reason it would have felt strange to ask Nick for help. 

‘Is there anything you need before I leave?’ David asked, noticing the time on the mantle clock. 

Nick paused briefly, his attention turning from the fire to David. 

‘No,’ he said quietly, his brow furrowed. 

Evidently Nick had something on his mind. David cursed the fact he did not have time to talk about it now, but given Nick's changeable mood, the alternation between tentative honesty and being completely closed off, David thought it was probably for the better. 

‘If you need anything just ask Bernadette,’ David said as he picked up his overnight bag. ‘I'll see you tomorrow night.’ 

‘Thank you.’ 

Nick turned back to the fire, placing more wood into the growing flames. 

‘Nick,’ David said. 

‘Yes?’ Nick replied, not turning around. 

‘If you want to talk to someone you have my number.’ 

‘Thank you,’ Nick repeated. 

Nodding even though Nick could not see him, David padded out of the room. He did not expect Nick would take him up on his offer but felt better for having made it. 

Sliding onto the back seat of the car David set his bag down beside him and took out his phone. He tucked the earpiece on his ear and quickly pressed buttons, bringing up the recent calls menu and adding Nick's name to the contacts list. Then, clicking for voice recognition, he said quietly, ‘Nick.’

  


Free from rushing aides and the usual bustle that surrounded him, David treasured these lone car journeys, infrequent as they were; it was more usual for someone else to be with him. 

With nothing to do, David watched pockets of shadow moving across the landscape, his thoughts first wandering and then dwelling on Nick. He felt worried, inexplicably concerned something would happen while he was in Germany, though it was a baseless fear. It was not as though Nick would be entirely alone, aides and other members of staff would be there the whole time, even if Nick seemed uninterested in seeking the company of others. 

David did not really understand Nick's behaviour; could not comprehend the skittish and yet somehow clingy attitude when in David's presence. He felt as though Nick was metaphorically pulling him closer with one hand while pushing him away with the other, and he did not like it, not knowing which of the two actions Nick actually wanted. He was sure Nick was not doing it consciously, but David could not help but wonder if Nick was attempting to isolate himself because he was afraid of losing everyone for a second time. 

Truthfully, David was anxious enough to consider calling Simon and asking if he would be able to stay with Nick for the night, but refrained from doing so because he did not want Nick to feel crowded. 

In spite of the confession Nick had made about not wanting David to go to Germany, which David interpreted more as a roundabout way of Nick saying he did not want to be alone, Nick could always call Simon himself if he wanted the other man to go to Chequers. 

The musical jingle of his phone indicating the arrival of a text message broke David from his thoughts, and he picked it out of his pocket to read, expecting an update from George or one of the other ministers. 

It was from Nick, and said simply: _Am I doing this right?_

A smile tugging the corners of his mouth upward, David replied: _Yes you are_. 

His phone chimed again a few seconds later. 

_Oh good. It kept asking me if I wanted to begin a conversation. When did they make phones so complicated?_

_About two years ago_ , David wrote, then added, _Was there something you wanted or am I just a guinea pig for you to test your phone on?_

_Just a guinea pig_ , came the reply. David laughed. 

_Well, when you're finished exploring the text function, check out the in-built radio. That should keep you busy for a couple of hours._

_Does it get classical?_

_It gets everything_ , David replied. 

_Thanks, I'll take a look, then. Bye._

Grinning, David placed his phone on the seat next to his leg, mentally picturing Nick figuring out how to use the radio on his phone and finding the hundreds of classical stations in the music list. He imagined Nick sitting contentedly by the fire listening to something relaxing; Haydn maybe. 

‘Airport, Mr Cameron,’ said the driver, and David abandoned the idea of switching on his own radio, getting out of the car and leaning over the seat to retrieve his phone and bag. He reluctantly switched off the phone for the flight to Germany.

  


It was dark by the time David arrived at Berlin Brandenburg airport, and he went straight to a late reception without switching his phone back on, only doing so at the very end of the night when he was alone in the plush hotel room. He checked his voicemail and made a note of who to call back in the morning, answered a few emails quickly, and replied to a text from George asking if he still wanted to use Dorneywood; David wrote he did not know but would like the option there if needed. 

Once he was satisfied everything was taken care of, he changed into his pyjamas and settled down to sleep, setting his alarm for five-thirty. 

The next day passed quickly amidst a mix of meetings and a tour of the new German treasury building. 

Since Germany had left the Euro, four years previously, it had seen a boom in its economy, and in spite of the doom and gloom predictions the Euro had not collapsed; it had actually stabilised very well, although Italy had needed to be bailed out before that had happened. 

Britain too had weathered the storm of the global economic crisis. There had been a perilous few months during 2013 when depression had looked set to strike again, but since then things had picked up. 

It had been a relief for David – more than a relief, a blessed triumph – and he had enjoyed the sullen looks on the faces of the Labour front bench as Miliband struggled to find a new way of attacking the coalition's economic policy for deficit reduction. 

In the end the only casualty of that strategy had been Miliband himself. He had resigned just days after the election, and Labour now had its first female leader in the form of Yvette Cooper.


	4. Chapter 4

# Chapter Four

  


At eight-twenty-five in the evening David's flight arrived at Heathrow. 

When he left the plane he was greeted by his usual driver, who handed him an open umbrella to shield himself from the rain. He made his way across the wet tarmac to the car and settled sleepily on the back seat, intending to spend the fifty minute journey to Chequers catching up with the messages he had undoubtedly received while his phone was switched off. 

To David's surprise he found there were none, and he sat in silence, the rhythmic rocking of the car making his eyes feel heavy. 

Soon the lights of Chequers blazed in the distance, through the darkened, rain-sloshed windows. David readied his umbrella as the car pulled up to the main entrance, the steady glow of the outside lights illuminating the building as he dashed from the car and into the house. 

Inside he quickly shed his jacket and moved to the lounge, dropping the umbrella in the stand by the door as he passed. 

The room was almost completely dark, but pleasantly warm; cosy, with a welcoming air David could not resist. The reddened flickers of the near-dead fire chased shadows back and forth over nearby furniture, lending it an orange hue both warm and inviting. 

As he looked around, David felt a little disappointed that Nick appeared to have gone to bed already. He moved to the fireplace and carefully laid some more wood, then went to the settee, meaning to sit and relax for a while before heading to his own room, but when he sat down he felt movement at his side and heard a small, sleepy groan. A foot touched his leg, rubbed against it for a few seconds before stilling, sole flat against David's outer thigh. 

David looked at the other end of the settee, where the curled mass of crumpled blanket and Nick was barely visible in the dim light. 

The foot, protruding from beneath the bottom of the blanket, was bare; it wriggled again, toes curling around the fabric of David's trousers as though seeking to burrow beneath, then it retreated, slipping away as Nick stirred and poked his head out from the cover. 

‘Simon?’ Nick yawned, stretching his arm out over his head. 

‘No, it's David.’ 

Nick sat up. 

‘Oh,’ he said softly. ‘I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Did Simon leave?’ 

‘I didn't see his car outside,’ David answered. 

Nick yawned again, rubbing his eyes and then hitching the blanket around his shoulders as he sat cross-legged next to David. 

‘Did you just get back,’ he asked. 

‘A few minutes ago,’ David replied. 

‘How was Germany?’ 

‘Oh, fine. Everything went smoothly. I'm glad to be back; I might finally be able to have a holiday during the recess now everything has calmed down,’ David said, shifting a little and extending his legs. He toed off his shoes, flexing his feet and enjoying the feeling of being unrestricted by footwear. 

Next to him, Nick was silent, eyes drooping closed and head beginning to loll to one side, and David smiled to himself, envying how easily Nick could fall asleep. 

‘Nick,’ David called softly, touching him lightly on the shoulder. Nick jumped, eyes flying open. 

‘I'm awake,’ Nick mumbled. 

‘I believe you,’ David laughed, watching Nick blink vigorously and shake his head. 

‘I'm sorry, David,’ Nick said. ‘It's the tablets, they make me drowsy. What were you saying?’ 

‘I was just telling you all the fascinating details of my trip. It can wait until the morning.’ 

‘Mm,’ came the sleepy response from David's side as Nick's head once again began to tilt sideways. 

‘Come on you,’ David commanded, getting to his feet. ‘Time for bed, I think.’ 

Nick protested weakly as David hoisted him to his feet and steered him out of the room, still clinging to the blanket. 

As he manoeuvred Nick up the stairs David worried at Nick's lack of coordination; Nick stumbled ahead of him, almost asleep on his feet, but as they ascended, Nick gradually became more alert, moving unaided along the hallway and into his room, where he climbed onto the bed and lay staring up at David. 

‘Something the matter?’ David asked from his position in the doorway, his hand resting on the door knob in readiness to close the door. 

Nick shuffled over to one side of the bed, sliding one arm beneath the pillow and settling down under the blanket brought from downstairs. He looked nervously at the space beside him and then at David. 

‘Will you stay and talk to me?’ Nick asked, his face worried looking in the light that shone from the hallway. He wiggled further back, patting the unoccupied section of the mattress. David stood in silence, considering the implications of the request, until Nick spoke again, whispering, ‘David?’ 

Seeing Nick's expression – eyes half-closed, mouth pursed, eyebrows slightly raised – David thought Nick looked exactly like a pleading puppy, and felt as though he could hear Nick's thoughts, the unstated reason for his wanting David to stay: _I don't want to be alone._

He pushed the door until a thin strip of light climbed the room from floor to ceiling, leaving enough of an ambient glow that he could make his way to the bed without bumping into furniture. Then he propped a pillow against the headboard and sat down, leaning back with his hands in his lap. 

‘I suppose I could bore you to sleep again,’ David teased, glancing down at Nick and smiling. 

Next to him, Nick laughed softly, propping himself up on one elbow and twisting his fingers in the blanket. 

David restrained the almost impulsive urge to wrap his arm around Nick's shoulder, quickly balling his hands together while Nick, seemingly restless now, rearranged himself for a third time, resting his head back on the pillow and wrapping both arms around it. 

‘You don't bore me,’ Nick said, gaze directed past David to the other side of the room. ‘You just have a relaxing voice.’ 

‘Really?’ David chuckled. ‘I think that's your excuse to get me into your bed.’ 

‘Technically this isn't my bed, it's yours.’ Nick raised one arm and shoved David lightly, making him rock sideways a fraction. ‘And I don't need an excuse. Neither do you, for that matter.’ 

Turning his face, Nick yawned into the pillow as David replied. 

‘Don't need an excuse? Does that mean I can hop in here whenever I like?’ 

‘I'm surprised you're even asking,’ Nick grinned. ‘You didn't seem to mind putting your hand down my trousers but you're suddenly shy about sleeping with me. It's quite amusing.’ 

‘I'm not sleeping with you,’ David responded a little too hurriedly, and heard Nick laugh again. 

‘I meant the literal kind, although you are doing a good job of keeping me awake.’ 

David looked down at Nick then, saw him yawning and squirming further down beneath the blanket until it covered the lower half of his face and made his next words muffled. 

‘Not that I'm complaining. It's good to have some company.’ 

‘I thought Simon...’ David began. 

‘Came to check up on me.’ Nick sounded irritated, and David wondered why Simon's concern met with such a reaction. 

‘Besides,’ Nick continued, ‘I could hardly ask him to spend the night with me because I'm lonely.’ 

‘Are you?’ David asked, unsure what he meant; was Nick lonely? Was this his way of asking David to spend the night? 

‘It's complicated,’ Nick mumbled. He sighed heavily. ‘It's like feeling left behind more than lonely. I've missed five years and the world has gone and moved on.’ 

‘You'll pick everything up soon enough,’ David commented. He reached out and patted Nick on the shoulder, hoping the gesture came across as reassuring and not condescending, and was surprised when Nick's hand emerged from under the covers and took hold of his own. 

‘That's not what I meant,’ Nick whispered. He sat up suddenly, bringing his face level with David's and stroking the back of David's hand with his thumb. ‘Do you remember the last time we were here, David? After the Cabinet meeting when you offered me a drink?’ 

‘Yes,’ David breathed. ‘I remember.’ 

‘We never got the chance to talk about what happened,’ Nick said quietly, looking down. ‘I meant to. I thought we would once I got back from Rio, but– And that's how it is with everything. My whole life is one giant unfinished conversation, except it's one everyone else stopped having years ago.’ 

‘You can still–’ David started to say, meaning to reassure Nick there was still a place for him, he only needed time to adjust, but it would have been little more than a platitude, given by habit rather than any genuine belief it was true. David paused, studying Nick's down-turned face for a moment, then he said, ‘Not every conversation needs to be left unfinished. This one doesn't.’ 

‘There were days when I was there that I wondered how this might go,’ Nick said. ‘What we would have said, how we– how things might have been if I'd come home. But it was over five years ago. Everything has changed now.’ 

The hand that was holding David's gripped a little tighter at the last remark, as though seeking solidarity, something that had not changed in the time Nick had spent on Penrhyn, and David did not reply right away. Instead he turned his hand so he could still Nick's roaming fingers, watching Nick's reaction as he did so. 

‘Not everything,’ David whispered. 

Nick gave a thin-lipped smile, the happy gesture marred by the look of sadness of his face. 

‘Everything,’ he whispered in return. ‘Everything–’ 

Sitting upright David ended Nick's words with a kiss – brief, soft – and pulled away, only to see Nick staring at him in shock, eyes wide. 

‘Why did you do that?’ Nick asked after a moment. 

‘Because I,’ David stuttered, lost for words. ‘I mean, I still...’ 

He stopped, embarrassed at his inability to express himself; unsure of why he had kissed Nick at all. Nick was smiling, seemingly amused, and he put his free hand on David's shoulder. 

‘You always were a bit of a bumbling fool.’ 

Nick brushed his fingers through the short hairs on the back of David's neck. 

‘Hm,’ David said, not wanting Nick to slip back into his previous melancholy mood. ‘It's only because I'm so distracted when you are around.’ He held Nick's elbow and added, ‘I've missed that – you, I've missed you.’ 

With a sharp tug to David's body Nick brought David forward and wrapped both arms around his shoulders, and David gingerly put his arms around Nick's waist, taken aback by the unexpected sentimentality of Nick's actions. He stroked the small of Nick's back with his palm and heard Nick give a long sigh before he continued talking, babbling rapidly in a low voice. 

‘This is strange, you know,’ Nick confessed. ‘I haven't had a hug in six years, not a proper one. It's... nice.’ 

‘Happy to oblige,’ David mumbled, tightening the circle of his arms. 

Nick shifted, his thigh pressing against David's as he leaned closer to where David sat. 

The angle of the embrace was awkward, uncomfortable, but David did not even think of ending it. There was comfort for him, as well as for Nick, in being held this way, and he could not deny part of him was thrilled that Nick would allow him this level of intimacy while apparently rejecting it from anyone else. 

After sitting in silence for several minutes Nick whispered, ‘I'm getting a crick in my back.’ 

David let go, allowing Nick to move away, and Nick pulled back until David could see his face again. 

‘Not as fit as you look,’ David teased with a grin. 

‘Oh, you'd be surprised,’ Nick replied, ‘but I'm better at swimming than I am at this.’ 

‘I'd still thrash you at tennis,’ David said. 

‘Sounds like a challenge,’ Nick laughed. ‘What do I get if I win?’ 

‘A smug sense of superiority,’ David answered, laughing too. Nick shook his head, grinning widely, then clamped his hand over his mouth as a yawn forced its way out of him, apologising to David when it subsided. 

‘I can go if you're tired,’ David offered. 

‘No, it's all right. I'm not going to fall asleep on you. Next to you perhaps, but not on you.’ 

Nick lay down, resting his head on the pillow and pulling the blanket over himself. 

‘Although I'm reliably informed I sleep walk. You could stay here and save me a journey.’ 

‘You'd probably hog all the covers,’ David said. 

‘And fidget constantly,’ Nick laughed. He sat up and pulled off his t-shirt, tossing it to the floor before returning to his previous position, curling in on himself until he was nothing more than a ball of limbs with just his hair sticking out from the top edge of the blanket. ‘Night, David.’ 

‘Goodnight,’ David mumbled, debating internally whether to stay or leave for his own bed. Finally he pawed at a spare blanket at the foot of the bed and stretched out beneath it, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling as Nick slept next to him.

  


David had been dozing, for how long he did not know, when he blinked awake, wondering where he was until Nick turned restlessly beside him, flopping over on one side. 

In the dim light David could see Nick was facing away from him, the long curve of his back exposed, with his hand stretched out above him, curled on the pillow above his head. He was wrapped in the blanket below his waist, legs extended at a diagonal angle toward the edge of the bed. 

Through the medium of the mattress David could feel Nick twitch, the flutter of a hand or a leg stirring from where it rested, and wondered if Nick was dreaming; what Nick was dreaming about. He was about to settle back down to sleep, tiredness seeping through his limbs, when Nick abruptly sat up, swinging his legs out over the side of the bed and getting to his feet while David frowned in confusion. 

Without a word Nick walked around the bed to the door, opening it wide and leaving the bedroom. David's frown deepened but he did not get out of bed; perhaps Nick was going for a drink of water. He waited in the half-light of the room, deciding that if Nick did not return in a few minutes he would go after him, but just as he was about to do so, Nick padded back into the room, pushing the door closed again and moving back to the side of the bed he had been sleeping on. David felt Nick pick up his pillow and blanket, removing them from the bed. 

Realising Nick was relocating to the floor again, David stayed silent, listening as Nick arranged the blanket and pillow and lay down. Then a curious light appeared from the space beside the bed, a soft glow that chased away the darkness, and David realised Nick had gone downstairs to retrieve his phone. Less than half a minute later the soft sounds of waves lapping against an unknown shore drifted up from the floor and the light of Nick's phone disappeared, leaving only the ruffle of cloth mingled with the sound of the ocean, as Nick settled with a sigh that could have been relief or frustration. 

David lay awake, the noise from beside the bed distracting him from sleep. It took him a few minutes to realise Nick had returned happily to slumber, the brush of the ocean not a nuisance but a reassurance, a familiar sound Nick found it difficult to sleep without. 

All of David's notions that Nick would be able to adjust to life away from Penrhyn with any speed were swept away in one sudden, striking moment. 

Biting his lip to hide any sound of distress David crawled across the bed and craned his neck over the edge, making out the obscure outline of Nick's form wrapped in the single blanket Nick had dragged from the bed. 

Nick was settled, phone on the floor next to the pillow, peaceful in a way David had not seen him since he had returned. There was no sign of the restlessness so evident during Nick's waking hours; Nick lay completely still, soothed to immobility by the simple sounds coming from his phone. 

_How could I be so stupid_ , David thought, turning so he was on the mattress again. _He shouldn't be here._

But where could Nick go that was private? Dorneywood was as far from the sea as Chequers and there was nowhere Nick could be protected from reporters. Was that important though? 

Confused, David could not sleep; tossed and turned in the bed. After a while the sounds of the ocean disappeared and David waited for Nick to stir again, but he did not, and eventually David drifted off to sleep, his tiredness overcoming his worry. 

He woke to an empty bed and empty room. Nick was gone. The bedding he had piled on the floor left casually on the side of the bed in a heap. 

Rising from the bed David shook the sleep from his body and started downstairs, making his way past aides and other staff members. 

‘Where is Mr Clegg?’ he asked one of them as he made his way to the kitchen. 

‘He went out, prime minister, to Little Kimble,’ the aide answered, scurrying away as soon as they realised David had no further questions. 

David stopped, taking a deep breath, then he rushed to the sitting room and turned on the television, sitting glued to the news channel and watching for any sign Nick's trip into Little Kimble had been picked up by the press. He was so engrossed, so worried, he jumped when Nick said hello as he walked into the room. 

‘Where have you been?’ David blurted, getting to his feet and rushing over to Nick. 

‘I went for a walk,’ Nick chimed cheerfully. ‘The woods were lovely, a bit cold but–’ 

‘You should have said something,’ David interrupted. Nick's smile faltered and then transform into a confused frown. 

‘I did,’ Nick said. ‘I told one of the aides.’ 

‘What if the press had seen you?’ David asked with agitation, beginning to feel annoyed. 

At the question, Nick's expression grew even more perplexed, and he opened his mouth as though about to speak but then closed it again, looking down at a cream coloured paper bag he held in his hand. David immediately felt guilty. 

‘I'm sorry,’ he said, running one hand down Nick's arm. ‘I was worried.’ 

Nick nodded silently, still looking toward the floor, and David backed away a step, clearing his throat in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence that had descended around them. 

‘I needed to do something,’ Nick said quietly, apparently addressing the pattern of the carpet. David could see Nick's eyes flicking back and forth, searching the floor as if the words he spoke were written there. ‘I'm not used to sitting around all the time doing nothing. Too much time for thinking when you... it was better to keep busy.’ 

‘I didn't realise you were bored,’ David said apologetically. 

‘I'm not, not really,’ Nick replied, finally looking up. ‘Just restless. There's not much to do here, I feel a bit confined.’ 

_Confined._

David flinched inwardly at Nick's choice of word; it suggested Nick thought his staying at Chequers was somehow forced, that he felt trapped, not safe as David had intended. 

The motive for bringing Nick here was so he could spend some time getting used to the modern world without being harassed by the press, not to isolate him completely, which David now realised had been the unforeseen side effect. 

‘You don't have to stay here,’ David explained. ‘We can find somewhere else for you, somewhere not so remote.’ 

‘I don't want to go somewhere else,’ Nick said. He moved a pace forward and took David's hand. ‘I want to stay with you.’ 

‘I'd go with you,’ David answered quickly, squeezing Nick's hand. 

‘And what would the press think of that,’ Nick smiled, ‘if you're so worried about them seeing me go for a walk?’ 

‘I don't know,’ David said, then added, ‘And I don't really care.’ 

‘Yes you do,’ Nick responded immediately. 

David found it strange Nick could still read him so easily, even after an absence of nearly six years, but knew Nick was right; he did care, and he knew exactly what picture the press would paint if he followed Nick to another location, especially after the photograph of him crying at Nick's funeral had done the rounds in the national newspapers. After that 'arranged marriage' had suddenly become 'star crossed lovers'. He could still remember the way he had looked: grief apparent, the tear rolling down his cheek caught in stillness forever at the click of a shutter. 

So much for a closed service. 

In spite of that, David was sincere in his expression that he would go with Nick should Nick decide he wanted to stay elsewhere, and knew he would weather whatever storm the press decided to create at the move. He still felt a nagging concern over the events of the previous night, a sense of unease and the unavoidable question of whether this was the right place for Nick to be. 

No matter what Nick said, David could not help but believe Nick might be better off somewhere near the ocean, and if he could have untangled his multitude of thoughts he would have suggested it to Nick. Since he could not, David asked instead, ‘What's in the bag?’ 

Nick gave a cheerful grin. 

‘Breakfast,’ he said, handing the bag to David. 

‘It's lunch time.’ 

‘Lunch then,’ Nick laughed as David opened the bag and took a curious look inside. He found, nestled among the paper and crumpled tissues, four scones, home-made by the look of them, and looked at Nick in confusion. 

‘From the bakery in Little Kimble,’ Nick explained, dragging David by the hand toward the kitchen. 

‘How did you–’ 

‘David, stop asking questions and put the kettle on. I'm starving,’ Nick ordered. He took the paper bag back from David and put it on the counter, then he pushed David lightly in the direction of the fridge. 

Bemused, but also pleasantly surprised, David complied with Nick's directions, filling the kettle with water and gathering the tea things onto a tray; pointing Nick to the cupboard where the jam was stored when asked. 

A few minutes later David found himself sitting at the dining table with Nick sitting opposite him, biting hungrily into a jam covered scone and licking his fingers when the jam cascaded over the side. 

When Nick, having eaten both of his scones before David had finished his first, sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, sipping his cup of tea, David chuckled and commented, ‘You weren't kidding when you said you were starving!’ 

‘It was the walk,’ Nick said. ‘I didn't eat breakfast before I left.’ 

‘Whatever it was you should do it more often. I haven't seen you eat so well since you got here.’ 

Nick bit his lip at the remark, placing his tea cup gently on the table. 

‘I'm trying, David,’ he said sadly. 

‘I know you are. I'm sorry,’ David replied. 

‘Don't apologise, it's my fault,’ Nick sighed. ‘I can't seem to get used to being able to eat when I like. There is a lot here I'm not used to.’ 

_Like sleeping in a bed_ , David thought, and almost voiced exactly that, checking himself at the last moment. 

‘It's only been five days, you have to give it some time.’ 

‘That's what everyone keeps saying,’ Nick huffed. ‘You, Simon, that doctor who called yesterday. 'Give it time.'’ 

‘Doctor?’ David questioned. 

‘Rimbaugh. The shrink.’ 

‘I didn't know he had called,’ David said, surprised Nick had not mentioned it before now. It seemed to David that Nick had lost the ability to discern the importance of events, or perhaps he simply did not care. What struck David most was Nick's candour over simple things, in marked contrast to his silence over others; it was as though his whole system of judging things had been fundamentally altered. 

‘He did. We had a long talk about what I can expect now I'm back, and what I would like to achieve with our sessions.’ Nick made air quotes at the last word, a grim look on his face. ‘You'd think this would be like riding a bike, but apparently not.’ 

David wondered if Nick had also spoken to Dr Rimbaugh about sleeping on the floor, and thought for a moment about asking, but he did not want to upset Nick again after the comment about his eating habits. He tapped his fingers idly on the wooden surface of the table, contemplating what Nick had said. 

‘No one thinks you've forgotten, Nick,’ David said after a moment. ‘I don't think a situation like this is the same.’ 

‘No, it isn't. I know it isn't, but I never expected it to be so... It's difficult, David. I'm having trouble with so many things.’ 

‘It will get easier, you have to–’ 

‘Give it time,’ Nick finished. 

The frustration Nick was feeling was evident in both his manner and his words, and David found the frank conversation had caused his appetite to flee. He pushed the plate that held his second, untouched scone away from him and drank a mouthful of his tea. Across the table Nick eyed him questioningly. 

‘Not hungry?’ Nick asked. 

‘Not very,’ David answered. He gestured to his plate. ‘You're welcome to finish it.’ 

With a barely concealed look of delight, Nick took the scone and dropped it onto his own plate, cutting it open with a knife and reaching for the jam. 

It was not until much later David realised he had completely forgotten to ask Nick how he had paid for the scones when he had no money.


	5. Chapter 5

# Chapter Five

  


At first David thought Nick was sleep walking again, as he had been on Thursday morning, but as David's sleepy state gave way to a more definite alertness he realised Nick was awake. 

The mattress dipped down as Nick climbed onto the bed where David lay, carefully pulling back the duvet and sliding underneath. He settled at David's side with his forehead resting against David's upper arm. 

A few seconds later David felt a hesitant hand creep across his stomach; a tiptoe of fingers that ended their journey by curling around David's side just above his hip. 

With a drowsy mumble of Nick's name, David lifted the arm Nick was pressed against from its now uncomfortable position. Nick wriggled closer still, seemingly taking the move as an invitation to rest his head on David's chest, leaving David with little option but to stretch his arm out beyond Nick's back or to do the more natural thing and wrap it around Nick's shoulders. 

‘Couldn't sleep,’ Nick whispered. 

David hummed acknowledgement, feeling bare skin beneath his fingers; Nick, as was usual at night, was wearing only his trousers. 

‘You don't mind, do you?’ Nick asked quietly. His voice sounded small and uncertain in the darkness and, David thought, also held the faintest tremor of fear. David reflexively tightened his arm around Nick, brushing his fingertips over the small hollow below Nick's collarbone. 

‘Go to sleep,’ David yawned, not wanting to encourage conversation and too tired to begin to fathom the reasons for Nick coming to his bed, but feeling instinctively he should not send Nick away, no matter how it might look to the staff that this would be the second night they shared a bed. 

In response to David's words Nick muttered a thank you and fell silent, and David drifted back to sleep on the thought that Nick would probably move to the floor before morning. 

Nick did not. 

When David woke, it was to find Nick sprawled on the bed next to him, arms extended above his head as he lay on his back. The duvet had slipped down, exposing Nick's chest, now beginning to lose the deep tan gained on Penrhyn. David's eyes drifted to the lightened line of the scar on Nick's torso. 

On the left side and level with Nick's arm pit, the scar was small, barely half an inch long and ever so slightly rounded in the middle. It was visible only because of its whiteness against the darker skin that surrounded it. Nick had not spoken of what had caused it but David knew Nick did not have it before Penrhyn, and had also noticed that, at times, Nick seemed preoccupied with it, running his hand over the spot where it lay as if it caused him pain. 

Careful not to wake his unexpected bedfellow, David gingerly extricated himself from the duvet and stood up, preparing to leave the room as quietly as possible and go downstairs. 

So far as David knew, this was the first time since his return that Nick had slept soundly in a bed, and David did not want to disturb him if it could be avoided. He picked up his dressing gown, pausing in his actions as Nick stirred and rolled over, wrapping his arms under his head like a pillow. 

David grabbed his phone and stepped quickly out of the room, throwing on his dressing gown before making his way along the hallway to the stairs. 

On the ground floor, David's phone began to vibrate in his hand, but David ignored it until he reached the kitchen, assuming it was the alarm he had set the night before. He was surprised to see a missed call listed when he set the phone down, and fixed the headphone to his ear before tapping to return the call while collecting the morning papers. 

George answered as David sat down at the table; not with a cheery good morning, or even with a grumpy one, as George was prone to in the early hours, but with the short, blunt question: ‘Are you sleeping with Clegg?’ 

‘What?’ David exclaimed, setting the Telegraph to one side. 

‘You heard me, David,’ George replied, sounding irritated. ‘Are you sleeping with Clegg?’ 

‘No I'm not!’ David snapped. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ 

‘Then perhaps you can explain why you stayed in his room the night before last,’ George demanded. 

‘How did you–’ 

‘So it's true then? David, what are you thinking?’ 

‘We talked. It was late and I fell asleep,’ David explained, half truthfully. He quickly decided not to tell George about Nick coming to his room. Hopefully whoever had told George about him staying in Nick's room had not noticed. 

‘And you think sharing a bed with him is okay, do you?’ 

‘We didn't,’ David barked, angry now. ‘If you must know, George, he sleeps on the floor.’ 

‘He sleeps on the floor,’ George echoed dubiously. 

‘Next to his bed,’ David said. ‘He won't sleep in it; I don't know why.’ 

‘Haven't you asked him?’ 

‘No. I didn't want to pry,’ David answered. 

‘Pry?’ George now sounded exasperated, he spoke as if David were a small child. ‘You shouldn't let him get too close to you.’ 

‘Why?’ David asked defensively. 

‘For one thing, what would the press say if they ever got wind of it? Clegg sleeps curled up like a puppy beside your bed? And for another–’ George broke off, and David heard him sigh heavily through the phone. ‘–have you even considered that recess ends next week? He won't be able to stay with you in number ten.’ 

‘I know that, George. I never intended him to, but he needs a friend right now.’ 

‘That's the problem, David,’ George said. ‘You've never wanted to be just his friend.’ 

‘I don't know what you mean,’ David sputtered. 

‘Yes you do,’ George stated calmly. ‘Look, it's not my business what goes on between the two of you, but try to think objectively for a moment. Are you sure this is what's best for him? After everything he has been through?’ 

‘I don't know,’ David admitted, ‘but I can't do nothing, George.’ 

‘Don't you see there is nothing you _can_ do? He needs to come to terms with what has happened on his own. You can't make things right for him, even if you really want to. Maybe you should consider sending him to Dorneywood, I'm not using it.’ 

‘I won't send him away,’ David insisted in a sharp voice, angered by the suggestion, by the casual tone with which George had made it; as though Nick were a trouble that could be packed up and moved out of sight. He ran a hand through his hair, waiting for George to berate him for his temper, but George remained silent and after a moment David said, ‘I'm sorry. But he won't go, he wants to stay here.’ 

‘With you?’ George asked. 

‘Yes, with me.’ 

‘Then I suppose we are stuck,’ George sighed. ‘I have to go, David. Promise me you will be careful.’ 

‘I will,’ David promised, hanging up the phone. He slotted the earpiece back in place and sat mulling over what George had said. 

George was right, of course; Nick would not be able to accompany David back to Downing Street, and perhaps it would be detrimental for Nick to become too accustomed to having David around only to be plunged back into solitude when the recess ended and David had to leave Chequers. 

But what of Nick and the tentative steps he was taking back to some kind of normality? Would they be halted if David withdrew his support? 

David did not want Nick to leave, but now he questioned his motives for that. Was it wanting to do what was best for Nick or was it purely selfish? 

Seeing Nick after all these years had reawakened feelings David had presumed were long since resolved, and David felt thrown, unable to step back from current events. He wanted what was in Nick's best interests, that was undoubtedly true, but he also wanted Nick; wanted to hold him and – yes, George was right about that, too – to make things right for him, even if he knew somewhere inside Nick had to do that for himself. 

_Be careful_ , George had said. 

David had been careful, up to now, or so he had thought, but as he reflected on what had taken place since his return from Germany on Saturday night, David began to realise he had in fact been rather care _less_. Not only had he put himself (and Nick) in the firing line of a scandal, he had also allowed Nick to crawl into his bed in the middle of the night without batting an eyelid. The fact it had been entirely platonic, at least on the surface, would mean nothing to gossiping members of staff, and even less to political rivals. 

Yet, with a certainty he did not feel about much else, David knew Nick could climb into bed with him every night for the next week and David would not have the heart to turn him away, nor would he want to. 

With his head beginning to pound an erratic rhythm and his mouth dry, David forgot about the newspapers and rose to fetch a drink of water, gulping it down thirstily and setting the tumbler in the sink. He would have to talk to Nick, explain to him they could not sleep in the same room, the same bed, again; attempt to put the brakes on whatever was happening before it went too far. 

That proved to be more difficult than David had anticipated. 

As soon as Nick entered the room, looking happy and refreshed, David felt his resolve crumbling. It vanished completely when Nick ate three pieces of toast, chatting about the headlines in the papers as naturally as if it were something they did every day, and had for a long time. David noticed Nick deliberately avoided reading any articles about himself, turning to the next page without reaction, and wished he could have done the same, but found he could not. 

The speculation was dying down now, after nearly a week, and columns about Nick had slipped back to page five and beyond. Most of it was simple regurgitation of previous articles but a few of the more persistent journalists had begun to throw out theories on why Nick was spending so much time alone at Chequers, though none of the reasons given were anything more than uninformed nonsense. 

‘I see they've almost stopped talking about me,’ Nick said, smiling at David as he handed back the copy of _The Times_ he had been reading. 

‘Some things have not changed,’ David replied, putting the newspaper on top of the ones he had yet to read. ‘The mainstream media still has the attention span of a hyperactive two-year-old.’ 

‘I thought absence made the heart grow fonder?’ 

‘They're journalists, Nick, they don't have hearts,’ David deadpanned. 

Nick laughed loudly, throwing his head back. 

‘And some things _have_ changed,’ he grinned. ‘You grew a sense of humour.’ 

‘You appear a trifle forgetful, I've always had one,’ David replied. 

‘For the last time, those Star Trek jokes were not funny,’ Nick said jovially. 

‘I got a laugh in the commons,’ David shrugged, watching from the corner of one eye as Nick got up and put his coffee mug in the sink alongside the glass David had used earlier that morning. 

‘Of course you did,’ Nick commented, standing with his back against the worktop. ‘You're the prime minister.’ 

‘Are you saying they were pity laughs?’ David asked with a smug, playful grin. 

‘Intelligence too? Why, David, you have been busy!’ 

Nick was practically giggling where he stood, hands flat against the counter and a definite smirk on his face. 

David raised one long, elegant eyebrow, but the only effect it had on Nick was to send him further into hysterics; he put his hand over his eyes and laughed in earnest. David got up from the table, feeling giddy as he walked across the room and took hold of Nick's wrist. 

‘Are you mocking me?’ David questioned, pulling Nick's hand away from his face. He intended the tone of his voice to be genial but the words came out as a husky whisper, and David realised he was practically pinning Nick against the cupboards. 

‘Yes,’ Nick answered in a gasp, not moving. 

The flutter of a pulse drummed steadily through the pad of David's thumb and for a moment he was uncertain whether it was his own, or Nick's, or both together. Then it ceased to matter as Nick leaned forward, his breath hot against David's mouth before he covered it with a kiss, slow at first but becoming more urgent as David responded. 

David ended the kiss only long enough to steal a lung full of air, and then slid both his hands into the soft coils of Nick's hair, kissing Nick again as Nick hooked his fingers around David's belt and dragged him closer. 

_Oh god_ , David thought hazily. 

This was what it was like to kiss Nick; not a peck or a half-surprising brush of lips, quickly ended, but a desperate, open mouthed rush of movement. 

Nick was making small, needy noises into David's mouth, noises which made David's stomach knot tighter and tighter each time they sounded, balling in on itself until it felt clenched as a fist ready to swing at an opponent. Nick's hands fumbled with the knot at David's waist, tugging it open and pushing the sides of David's dressing gown apart. 

‘We're in the kitchen,’ David mumbled, breaking away from Nick's mouth to kiss along his jaw, the sensible statement doing nothing to calm his flustered mood. ‘We shouldn't.’ 

‘Not here,’ Nick agreed breathlessly. 

Actions contrary to his words, Nick pulled the full length of David's body against him, one hand snaking its way beneath David's pyjama top and running along the bare skin of his back. 

‘Nick, we need to stop,’ David tried again, even while he was tasting the skin of Nick's neck. Nick nodded, gasping in David's ear, the wiry strength of his limbs taut and straining under David's hands, very nearly costing David the last shred of his self control, but with effort David stepped back, raising his head to look at Nick, flushed and breathing heavily. 

Nick was biting his lip, eyes closed and obviously struggling to regain his composure. His hair was tousled messily and a deep red mantled his cheeks. 

‘Fucking hell, David,’ Nick said without opening his eyes. 

‘Yeah,’ David responded, because he could not think of anything else to say. His head was clouded and his thoughts muddled, swimming with the realisation of what had just happened. 

David drew a deep breath as Nick opened his eyes, teeth still pinching his lower lip. Nick's expression was one of apprehension, though his gaze had a lingering hint of arousal that made David want to kiss him again, consequences be damned. But the rational part of David's brain had kicked fully into gear now and he adjusted his clothes, tying his belt and checking his hair to see how badly disturbed it was. Nick smoothed down the disarray of his own hair with careful sweeps of his fingers, until the evidence of where David's hands had been was all but invisible to any casual observer. 

‘That was... unexpected,’ Nick said, smiling almost shyly as they stood looking at each other, still with barely inches separating their bodies. 

‘Nick, I– we–’ David stared at the intricate detail of the floor tiles, unwilling to meet Nick's eyes as he fumbled for words. 

‘This is the moment when you tell me you don't think it would be wise for us to become involved,’ Nick began, ducking his head to look David in the eye. ‘And I say you're right, it would be a bad idea, ridiculously bad, and we tell each other it won't happen again.’ 

‘Is that what you want?’ David asked. 

‘It's what has to happen,’ Nick replied, side-stepping his way from between David and the cupboards and starting toward the door. 

David grabbed hold of Nick's arm, stopping him from leaving. 

‘You didn't answer the question.’ 

‘You know the answer. It doesn't make a difference,’ Nick said quietly. He extracted his arm from David's hold but did not resume walking to the door. ‘It wouldn't be fair to–’ 

‘Fair?’ David interrupted, his voice higher in tone than usual. ‘How can you talk about fair after...’ David gestured to the spot where Nick had been standing. ‘You kissed me.’ 

‘You didn't exactly shove me away,’ Nick argued, anger brewing on his brow. 

‘No. No, I didn't, but I– If you know we can't... pursue this, why did you do that?’ David asked, desperate to understand, to have at least some understanding of the inner workings of Nick's mind, because the contradiction of his words was confusing. 

‘Because I want you, David. I have done for years and, damn it, I still do, even if we can never– but I'm not sure I care for the reasons why we can't. I'm not really sure of anything,’ Nick finished, exhaling heavily, eyebrows knit together. 

David was taken aback, and his mouth dropped open a fraction. Surely Nick had not spent all those years on Penrhyn thinking about him? But then, what else would there have been to do? Nick did not have the luxury of distraction; his life had been effectively put on hold, paused at the moment he had stepped onto the plane and kept there, unmoving, while the rest of the world span on. 

Certainly David had dwelt on the _what ifs_ and _might have beens_ , even after the funeral, for several months, but he had been forced to let go and had eventually set his feelings aside, consigning them to the past. It had only been when he learned Nick was alive that they had started to return to his conscious thoughts. 

Now, David was dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what it must have been like for Nick to have such a vastly different experience. 

Trying to look to the future, the business of helping Nick adjust back to modernity, David had successfully avoided thinking too deeply about what Nick had actually been through. He had acknowledged the events as they must have happened but somehow glossed over the hardship, the overwhelming emotional toll it must have taken on Nick to find himself alone with little prospect of rescue and nothing but the memories of his former life. 

Reminded of Nick's words the previous morning – _too much time for thinking_ – David felt a profound sense of compunction, as if he himself were to blame for the situation they now found themselves in, although that was not in the least bit true, or possible. Suddenly the reasons for keeping Nick at arms length seemed grossly inadequate, the concerns trivial when compared to those of someone who had spent the better part of six years struggling to stay alive. 

For the first time David understood how and why an experience such as that could alter your perceptions of what was important, and while he did not share Nick's lack of concern for the reasons why, he did feel a certain amount of frustration they could not do as they pleased. 

‘Listen, David,’ Nick said, breaking David from his thoughts. ‘It's all right. I understand why you don't want to, why it can't happen. I'm not so out of touch that I don't remember how complicated politics can be.’ 

‘It's not that I don't want to,’ David cut in quickly. 

‘I know that, too,’ Nick replied. ‘But you're worried about the press and the staff here, and I should be as well.’ 

‘But you're not, are you? Worried?’ 

‘It doesn't seem to matter as much as it used to,’ Nick commented, shrugging. He pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at it as it beeped with the arrival of a message. ‘Simon is waiting for me outside. He's arranged a get together for some of the party, to welcome me home.’ 

‘Right, yes. You should go then. We can talk about this later,’ David said, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. 

‘I might not get back tonight.’ 

Nick tapped distractedly on his phone, answering Simon's message. 

‘Oh. I don't suppose it matters anyway,’ David replied. ‘Like you said, it wouldn't be fair to–’ 

Nick's phone beeped again and he shot David an apologetic look. 

‘Sorry, I have to–’ 

‘No. No. You go on. Don't keep Simon waiting.’ 

With a curt nod Nick hurried away, and David pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling stressed and upset. He wondered why it bothered him so much that Nick had left before their conversation was properly concluded; more talking would not change the outcome, and it was good that Nick was engaging socially. Nick spending the night away from Chequers was good, too; it meant there would be no awkwardness over the sleeping arrangements. 

But David could not even pretend to himself he was happy, though he should have been, or at least he told himself he should have been when he made his way to the study and tried to distract himself with the work he had let lapse over the weekend. 

David moped for the rest of the day; and there really was no other word to describe it, he decided as he sauntered to the kitchen to make his third cup of tea since Nick had left. He was moping, listless and unable to keep his mind on his work, to stop his thoughts from wandering back to the events of the morning. 

Though he tried to push the memory aside it kept forcing its way into his head. The way Nick had felt pressed against him; soft hair and softer lips, and those eager little noises that sent David's pulse racing. 

With a groan he leaned his head against the door of the wall cupboard, feeling the smooth, cool wood against his forehead.

  


At five o'clock David reluctantly abandoned the study and went for a run, hoping the physical exertion would prove demanding enough to clear his head. When he returned he took a shower, ate a hastily prepared dinner, and settled in front of the television to watch _Moyen's Game_ , a crime drama that was in its second season and which David followed religiously. 

By nine-thirty, just as the intrepid detective Moyen was apprehending a vicious gang of smugglers whose activities had led to the death of a young man named Pete, the son of Moyen's friend, David had drunk two glasses of whisky with unaccustomed swiftness and his eyelids were beginning to droop closed. He switched off the television as the credits began to roll and walked, yawning, to his bedroom, throwing off his clothes and brushing his teeth before donning his nightclothes and slipping beneath the covers to go to sleep.

  


_Something is wrong_. 

That was David's first conscious thought as he blinked in the dark bedroom and attempted to get his bearings, something that was extremely difficult due to the buzzing of his pillow. It was as though a horde of angry bees had taken up residence within it, and that did not make any sense at all; why would there be bees in his pillow? 

No, something was definitely amiss. 

The source of the buzzing turned out to be David's phone, which he had neglected to place on the bedside table when he went to bed. It thrummed restlessly on the mattress beneath his pillow, and David squinted at it as he held it in front of his face, trying to bring the blurry screen into focus. 

Simon? Why would he be calling this late? 

‘Hello,’ David answered sluggishly, pressing the phone to his ear. 

‘Ah, David, you're awake,’ Simon said. ‘I need your help.’ 

‘You do realise it's–’ David glanced at the clock. ‘–nearly two in the morning.’ 

‘Yes, sorry. Can you come downstairs? I need some help with Nick.’ 

Sitting upright in an instant, David flung back the covers and stood up. 

‘What's wrong with Nick?’ he asked, moving frantically toward the door and forgetting his dressing gown. 

‘I'll explain when you get here,’ Simon replied, and hung up. 

‘What's going on?’ David demanded when he reached the front door and met with a harassed-looking Simon. 

‘He insisted I bring him back here,’ Simon explained, gesturing to his right, ‘but now I can't get him out of the car.’ 

‘What do you mean 'can't get him out of the car'? What's wrong with him?’ David asked, striding purposefully to the passenger side of Simon's Rover. 

Nick was sleeping with his head against the window. David tapped on the glass, expecting Nick to wake, but Nick did not even stir at the noise. David frowned. 

‘He's asleep,’ Simon said redundantly. 

‘I can see that,’ David muttered. ‘Are you going to tell me what the hell happened? I thought he was staying with you tonight.’ 

‘He was supposed to be.’ 

‘And?’ 

‘He disappeared from the party and when I found him he was asleep in my spare bedroom,’ Simon told David, glancing at the still sleeping Nick with concern. David was about to ask why Simon had not simply left Nick sleeping when Simon continued. 

‘He was on the floor by the window.’ 

_That would explain it_ , David thought. 

Simon obviously did not know that Nick did not sleep in bed. 

‘I'm not really following,’ David frowned, because even if Simon had found Nick on the floor there was no reason to drive back to Chequers this late. 

‘I tried to wake him and get him up on the bed, but he... he didn't react too well to that. He started saying something about things not sounding right, whatever that means, and then he walked out to the car.’ 

‘So you drove him here? Why?’ David asked, mystified. 

‘He said he wanted to go home,’ Simon answered. 

David rubbed his face, resisting the urge to curse aloud. It was not Chequers Nick had meant, David was sure of it, but there was no way Simon could have known that; he had not witnessed Nick's other episode of sleep walking. 

‘Let's get him inside,’ David said, pulling the car door open and craning over Nick to undo the seat belt. He crouched down beside the car, calling Nick's name softly in his ear, and when he got no reply David pulled Nick to face him. 

‘Nick, come on. Let's get you upstairs,’ David said a little louder than before, giving Nick a gentle shake. 

‘David? What?’ Nick mumbled sleepily. David immediately turned to face Simon. 

‘Has he been drinking?’ 

‘He had a glass of wine after dinner.’ 

‘For the love of–’ David hissed, keeping his voice low. ‘He's taking sedatives, no wonder he's so out of it.’ 

He turned back to Nick, taking hold of Nick's legs one at a time and arranging them so Nick was sitting sideways in the passenger seat, then he wrapped his arms around Nick's middle and hoisted him carefully from the car. Nick's head bumped heavily on David's chest, jerked upright again, and then Nick opened his eyes. 

‘I don't feel well,’ Nick grumbled, bracing himself with hands on David's shoulders. 

‘I don't suppose you would,’ David replied, gripping Nick a little tighter. ‘Can you walk?’ 

‘Sure.’ 

Between them, David and Simon managed to half-walk and half-carry Nick upstairs, but when they reached the bedroom Nick suddenly turned to David, grabbing hold of him and asking: ‘Can I sleep in your room?’ 

‘Not tonight,’ David said, ignoring Simon's raised eyebrows and tilted head, and his subsequent open mouthed look of shock when Nick went on to promise he would be quiet again and let David sleep; a statement that would have been less incriminating if not for the _again_. 

Patiently walking Nick across the room and sitting him down on the edge of the bed, David knelt down and removed Nick's shoes, surprised Nick was even wearing them, then he urged Nick to lie down and covered him with a blanket. 

Outside the bedroom, once David had closed the door, Simon gave him a hard, questioning look, crossing his arms across his chest. 

‘David, I think we need to talk.’


	6. Chapter 6

# Chapter Six

  


It felt more like an interrogation than a friendly chat, and David was sure he was about to get another lecture as he sat nursing a steaming cup of coffee, not quite meeting Simon's eyes as the other man waited for him to speak. 

After a few minutes had passed and David still found himself unable to put his explanation into words, Simon leaned forward, resting one arm on the table. 

‘I'm guessing,’ Simon began, ‘this is not the first time something like this has happened?’ 

David gulped and shook his head. 

‘No. Thursday morning I found him in my room. He was looking for the ocean.’ 

‘And you let him stay?’ 

‘No, I took him back to his room,’ David said truthfully. Simon looked unconvinced, so David plunged headlong into a full description of what had happened, including his talk with the doctor the following morning. 

‘Okay,’ Simon said when David finished. ‘But he has obviously slept in your room at least once.’ 

‘Last night,’ David confirmed, beginning to feel a twinge of sadness and, similarly to when George and he had the same discussion, not quite knowing how to say he was struggling to know what the right course of action was with regards to Nick. On the one hand, Nick was evidently comfortable enough around David to speak his mind, and on the other, David worried about Nick, about the sleep walking and the way he behaved sometimes. 

Seemingly reading David's thoughts as though they had been spoken, Simon breathed a heavy sigh. 

‘I'm worried about him, too.’ 

‘You are?’ David gasped in surprise. 

‘Of course I am. He doesn't speak to me, not like he used to. I had no idea he was taking sedatives until you told me; I'd never have let him drink if–’ 

‘It's not your fault,’ David interjected. ‘I should have told you.’ 

‘No, David. _He_ should have told me.’ 

That was true. Even though David was unwilling to admit it outright he had thought the same at the time; why had Nick not told Simon he was taking medication? It was very out of character. But then, Nick's character was not the same as David remembered it, and judging by Simon's reaction he felt the same. 

‘I feel like I don't know him,’ Simon admitted, shocking David with the frank way in which he spoke. ‘The person I drove back here tonight was not Nick Clegg. I don't know the first thing about him.’ 

Studying his coalition partner carefully, David could see the trepidation of the older man's expression, and shared it. David had known for days that the man who had come back from Penrhyn, whilst undoubtedly Nick, was so different from the man who had been on the plane it may as well have been a new person who had returned. 

‘He talks to you, though,’ Simon observed correctly. ‘Right now I think you know him better than anyone.’ 

‘Not as well as you think,’ David said with a small shake of his head. ‘I don't know why he sleeps on the floor. I can guess why but he hasn't mentioned it.’ 

‘He sleeps on the floor?’ Simon asked. ‘But just now you put him in bed.’ 

‘I doubt he will stay there. The only time he didn't move to the floor was the night he...’ David trailed off, biting his lip nervously. 

‘The night he stayed with you,’ Simon finished. David nodded solemnly, and Simon thought for a second. ‘I take it you didn't invite him to your room?’ 

‘He woke me in the night. I think he was frightened of something,’ David replied. 

‘Frightened of what?’ 

‘I don't know,’ David frowned. ‘It was the middle of the night and I wasn't thinking straight; I let him stay.’ 

‘Perhaps that wasn't the wisest thing to do,’ Simon said, giving David a sympathetic smile. 

‘It probably wasn't,’ David agreed, ‘but I didn't know what else to do. It's hard to know how to deal with him; he's having a lot of trouble adjusting.’ 

‘Surely it's not that bad,’ Simon commented, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. 

‘It is,’ David said sadly, holding his hand up to indicate no when Simon offered him a refill. ‘He hardly eats anything, he doesn't sleep well, and sometimes it's as though–’ David stopped, reluctant to speak his most worrying thought out loud. He rubbed his eyes. ‘I think he misses being there.’ 

‘Nonsense,’ Simon laughed. ‘Why would he miss it?’ 

‘I don't know, but he does,’ David insisted. ‘Not all the time, but sometimes. He's even said he wished he'd stayed.’ 

‘But that's–’ Simon began. The rest of the sentence was cut short by the kitchen door opening, and both men turned to see Nick walking into the room. He stopped short of entering completely, looking visibly surprised to see David and Simon sat at the table. 

‘Sorry,’ Nick said nervously, ‘I didn't think anyone was awake. I, uh, I came to get a glass of water.’ 

‘Quite all right,’ Simon replied warmly. ‘David and I were just about to call it a night, weren't we, David?’ 

‘Yes. It is getting late,’ David agreed. He turned to Nick. ‘Do you feel better?’ 

‘Yes, I– I'm just a bit thirsty,’ Nick replied, still not moving from where he stood, as though he were waiting for permission to get what he wanted. 

David frowned and got up, noticing Nick's eyes followed his movements as he walked across the room, and David felt suddenly that Nick wanted to say something but was reluctant to do so in front of Simon. 

‘Are you going to stand in the doorway all night?’ Simon asked, dragging Nick's gaze away from David. 

‘No,’ Nick said quickly, scurrying to the sink and filling a glass with water. He drained it swiftly and filled it a second time before turning back to Simon and David with the glass clutched in his hands. ‘I'll leave you to it. Goodnight.’ 

Watching as Nick hurried from the room, Simon tilted his head in contemplation before turning his attention to David, who was staring in the direction Nick had just gone, desperately wishing he could follow and see if Nick wanted to talk. 

‘David, is something going on between you two?’ Simon asked quietly. 

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, David nodded, expecting Simon to be furious as George had been, but Simon did not react and when David opened his eyes it was to see Simon smiling at him kindly. 

‘That explains some things,’ Simon commented, his voice bordering on amused. ‘No wonder he wants to stay here. Flat out refused my offer to stay with me.’ 

‘He did?’ David asked in astonishment, not because of Nick's refusal but because Nick had once again not mentioned it. Simon rose to his feet and walked to where David was standing. 

‘Yes, he did. Far be it for me to interfere in your business–’ 

‘I know we can't, George has already–’ 

‘As I was saying,’ Simon continued patiently. ‘Far be it for me to interfere, but I think Nick has something on his mind. Why don't you go and talk to him?’ 

‘I don't think that would be a good idea,’ David muttered. ‘You should go.’ 

‘Good idea or not, it is you he will talk to,’ Simon said sternly. ‘I'd get nothing but him telling me he's fine, we both know that. So go and see what's troubling him, and don't worry, I won't tell George.’ 

A tentative smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, David mumbled a thank you and stepped quickly from the room.

  


When David knocked on Nick's bedroom door he got no answer from within and considered going to bed, thinking Nick might have gone back to sleep. But something about the way Nick had watched him in the kitchen, the skittish way Nick had behaved, convinced David he should make sure that was the case before abandoning his effort to talk to Nick. He turned the handle and poked his head inside. 

Nick was sitting cross-legged in the centre of the bed, both hands pressed to his face, one atop the other, with a set of earphones wedged in his ears. 

David was about to step forward and attempt to get Nick's attention when he heard Nick let out a shaky breath, followed by a small sob, and David realised Nick was crying. 

Frozen to the spot, David watched as Nick's upper body shook in time with the nearly silent weeping, little more than faint huffs of breath giving any indication of what was happening. He did not know what to do, how to react to this unexpected turn of events, and he wondered how many other nights Nick had sat alone in the dark and cried this way. Was this the reason Nick had come to his bed? 

David dismissed the thought that he should slip quietly away; he could not bring himself to leave Nick alone and in such an evident state of despair. 

Walking over to the bed, David sat down and touched Nick gently on the shoulder, felt Nick flinch under his hand before Nick rubbed his eyes and turned his head to look at David, face etched in sadness. 

Without a word David reached up and removed one of the earphones, held it to his own ear, and heard the calm swish of waves lapping against an anonymous shore. Nick sat silently, expression full of anguish, as David took out the other earphone and lifted the phone they were attached to out of the way, placing it on the night table. 

When he turned back David simply pulled Nick to him, wrapping his arms around Nick's shoulders and stroking softly at his hair. Nick sagged against him, burying his face in the material of David's top, and then he inhaled sharply, shuddering as he began to cry again. 

‘What's wrong with me, David?’ Nick sobbed, his voice muffled against David's chest. 

‘Shh,’ David soothed. ‘There's nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all.’ 

‘But I miss it, I miss the ocean and it's not getting any easier,’ Nick choked out, gripping David tightly, one hand at each side of David's waist. David gentled him, running his hand down Nick's back with tender patience. 

‘It's all right,’ David whispered. ‘You let it out, let it go. I'm here.’ He could feel the wetness of Nick's tears beginning to seep through his clothes as Nick burrowed deeper into his arms, wriggling closer and closer until he was very nearly sitting in David's lap and was moulded along David's side with his head against David's neck. 

‘I feel so lost. Nothing here is simple, everything is about rules and...’ 

Nick fell silent and rubbed his cheek on David's shoulder. David waited for Nick to finish, and when the words came David bit his lip and focused on keeping his breathing steady, not wanting to betray his shock. 

‘I want to go back,’ Nick said, voice low and serious in David's ear. ‘I know I should be happy to be here but I can't get used to it. I can't sleep; it's too loud or too quiet, the bed is too soft. I'm cold, I feel cold nearly all of the time and the only way I can get warm is by burying myself in a blanket, but then I can't breathe.’ 

Nick's words became increasingly broken, the tone of his voice fluctuating wildly as he stammered an endless list of everything that was on his mind; a muddled and troubling barrage of things, meaningful and mundane alike, that Nick felt he could not talk about. David listened, taking in every word until Nick stopped, crying quietly against David's shoulder and eventually just resting there, breathing a little unsteadily, when no more tears would come. 

It was not important to speak, the act of being there, of simply holding Nick and letting him unburden himself, was enough. Those things David could help with, most of them seemingly trivial, could be taken care of in the morning; the most important thing – getting Nick away from Chequers – would take a few days to arrange, and David still could not think of somewhere suitable. 

David wiped Nick's cheek with the backs of his fingers, clearing away the last remnants of dampness. 

‘Do you want to sleep on the floor?’ he asked softly. Nick shook his head lightly, his arms tensing for a moment around David's waist. David thought for a second and then asked, ‘Do you want me to stay?’ 

For a moment there was no answer, and then Nick whispered, ‘You'll get in trouble.’ 

With a smile David placed his palm flat against Nick's face, running his thumb over Nick's cheekbone. 

‘I'm already in trouble,’ he said, and did not mean with George or Simon or any of the other people who would throw a fit if they knew; he was in trouble because he intended to go with Nick to whichever place could be found for him, and if it took David being with him to get Nick to sleep in a bed then that was what David would do. 

Untangling himself, David shimmied fully onto the bed, lying down and pulling Nick back into a hug. Nick curled against David's side, one of his feet hooking between David's and his arm wrapped around David's middle, holding tightly. David groped blindly on the mattress behind Nick until his hand caught hold of the duvet, which he tugged over both of them, but mostly over Nick, making sure to leave enough room for Nick to breathe. 

‘Are you warm enough?’ David asked in a hushed voice; he realised from the small, murmured reply that Nick was already drifting off to sleep. David turned and kissed Nick lightly on the forehead, and heard a soft noise of contentment as Nick's breathing grew steady and shallow. 

Although he was tired, David found himself unable to sleep. Nick stirred a few times next to him – once yawning and twice moving the arm that held David – and David lay in the near dark, mentally running though a list of places where Nick might be able to go. 

Dorneywood was out of the question, as was anywhere in or near a major city, so where? Chevening had a lake, which was better than nothing, but David really wanted somewhere by the sea and could think of nowhere. 

Even if the problem of where could be solved it still left the problem of how David could go too without it seeming as though he was acting inappropriately. Sneaking around would undoubtedly be discovered and would cause more damage than if he went openly, but he needed a reason why he should go at all; he could not simply say he wanted to look after Nick, nor could he claim he was taking a holiday since that left the question of why Nick would be with him. 

_There has to be something_ , David thought sleepily, stroking Nick's arm absently as he pondered what to do. 

The light in the room was growing brighter, sunshine starting to creep through the gap at the top of the curtains. David thought it must be nearing six o'clock, almost time for him to get up, though he would have preferred to get a few more hours of sleep. 

Nick stirred again, turning over and squirming until he was pressed against David from shoulder to thigh to knee, the alternating warmth and coolness of his breath fluttering over the skin of David's hand. David moved his arm, automatically shifting onto his side so his chest was against Nick's back and he could smell the spicy scent of shampoo from Nick's hair. 

It had been a long time since David had last held anyone in this way; nearly two years since he had slept with another person or had any level of intimacy at all. Being Prime Minister did not lend itself to finding the time to romance a potential partner, and even the brief relationship he'd had with a family friend had not been serious. 

It was oddly familiar, having Nick cuddled to him. Though it had happened only once before, and not like this at all, David felt perfectly at ease with Nick in his arms, not at all awkward or apprehensive; it was effortless, but not in a way that belittled the genuine feelings of care and concern he had for Nick. 

What was most surprising to David was, although he knew those feelings were not strictly confined to the platonic, in that moment the bond he felt lacked any expectation of something beyond the simple comfort he could offer just by holding Nick as he slept, and having Nick resting so peacefully at his side made David happy. He brushed his face affectionately against the soft locks of Nick's hair and kissed him once, very softly, on the back of the neck just below the hairline. Nick twitched and made a tiny sound, a barely audible hum of noise, as his fingers found David's and clasped lightly. 

David stilled, resting his head on the pillow and hoping Nick would not wake. He would have to get up soon, judging by the gleam of sunlight that was making steady progress across the ceiling, but for now he could stay, and in the quiet of his mind, could admit he did not want to leave at all. 

Not sleeping but also not fully alert, David let his eyes slip closed, feeling the unvarying rise and fall of Nick's chest under his arm. 

It was a soft knock that prevented David from actually falling asleep, and he looked toward the sound as Simon peered around the wooden door. 

‘It's almost seven o'clock, David,’ Simon whispered. 

‘I'll be down in a minute,’ David said, grateful Simon did not comment on his still being in Nick's room and curled up with Nick on the bed. 

After Simon had left the room David carefully slid his arm out from under Nick, leaving the bed and leaving Nick sleeping. He walked downstairs, squinting at the cheery light of the kitchen when he entered. 

‘No doubt you could use some coffee,’ Simon said, immediately handing David a mug. ‘How is he?’ 

‘Better for talking, I think, but not by much. This has been rough on him.’ David took a sip of coffee, knowing he needed the caffeine if he was going to get through the day. ‘I think we should arrange for him to stay somewhere else.’ 

‘Not here or not with you?’ Simon asked, looking at David intently. 

‘Not here,’ David answered. ‘I'll go with him.’ 

‘You know that will be difficult,’ Simon pointed out. 

‘I know,’ David said. ‘We need to come up with something. I don't think he will go without me.’ 

Simon tapped his index finger against his mouth thoughtfully, considering carefully for several seconds before he spoke again. 

‘What about asking Nick's doctor? I'm sure we could convince him to make a recommendation that is favourable.’ 

‘You think he would?’ 

‘You're certain Nick will be better off somewhere else?’ 

‘Yes,’ David replied without hesitation. 

‘Then we will work something out. Nick's well-being is more important than anything.’ 

David nodded, covering his mouth and yawning hard enough that it brought tears to his eyes; he rubbed them away with the heel of his hand and drank more coffee. 

‘You look tired,’ Simon said. ‘Did you sleep at all?’ 

‘No,’ David replied, another yawn making the word long and low. ‘Too much on my mind.’ 

‘If you want to go back to bed, I can–’ 

‘I'll be fine. I have things to do today,’ David said, waving his hand in Simon's direction. 

‘I thought you were taking the week off? Barring national emergencies, that is,’ Simon chuckled. 

‘Tell that to whoever keeps putting reports on my desk,’ David sighed. He got up and took two slices of bread from the bread bin, dropping them into the toaster and depressing the handle. 

‘Reports? Anything I can help with?’ Simon asked. 

‘The final consultation papers from the PMHC bill. It won't take me more than a few hours to get through them and I want them to be ready as soon as recess ends. There is something you can do for me, though,’ David said. 

‘What?’ 

‘Take Nick to get some more clothes. He only has a few things and they're not really suited to the weather this time of year.’ 

David plucked the freshly made toast from the toaster with the tips of his fingers and dropped it onto a plate. 

‘No problem,’ Simon said as he finished his coffee. He put his mug down and left the room, returning moments later with the stack of newspapers that were delivered to Chequers on a daily basis whenever David was there. 

After flipping through them a pulling out the copy of _The Independent_ , Simon put the rest on the table in front of David. 

‘What time will Nick get up?’ he asked as he sat down again. 

‘Around nine, nine-thirty,’ David replied. 

‘So, I'll take him to Aylesbury, and you can finish reading those reports while we're out,’ Simon suggested. 

‘Sounds fine,’ David agreed. ‘I'll call Doctor Rimbaugh, too.’ 

‘I think I should do that,’ Simon said. ‘It will be better if it comes from me.’ 

‘Oh? Why?’ 

‘The less involved in the decision you appear to be, the better,’ Simon explained. ‘It raises less questions.’ 

David shook his head in confusion, and Simon continued. 

‘I'm booked solid for the rest of the week so I can't stay with Nick, but you can. I'll make sure Doctor Rimbaugh knows both of these facts and if we're lucky he will suggest you go with Nick of his own accord. Then all you have to do is play along.’ 

‘I didn't realise Lib Dems were so cunning,’ David laughed. 

‘Six years in coalition with you lot? We've learned a few tricks,’ Simon grinned back. 

‘In that case, I'll let you take care of it, since you seem to have it all worked out,’ David said. He turned back to his paper, reading a few lines of an article before another thought struck him. 

_If this works, what the devil will I say to George?_


	7. Chapter 7

# Chapter Seven

  


Whatever Simon had said to Nick's doctor had seemingly convinced him Nick should be moved. When David spoke to him on the phone, late Tuesday afternoon, Doctor Rimbaugh had suggested a short break in a less formal setting would perhaps ease Nick's transition, and had asked that someone familiar go with him to ensure his safety if he should sleep walk again. David had thanked the doctor politely, and immediately upon hanging up the phone had called an acquaintance to ask for suggestions on holiday homes available at short notice. 

Two hours later David had rented a small house on the south Devon coast that was available from the following day, and he had sat Nick down and explained they were leaving Chequers in the morning. Then he had telephoned George. 

Surprisingly George had been more understanding than David had expected, even apologising for his earlier anger, explaining that he did not realise the extent of Nick's trauma until Danny had told him. David hung up the phone feeling relieved, especially at George's reassurance that he would do everything he could to keep the move under wraps.

  


The drive to Devon took four hours. Nick sat almost silently in the passenger seat, watching through the window as the dreary weather gradually melted away to blue skies and bright sunshine. 

David thought, as he glanced to his left when they stopped at turns and traffic lights, that Nick looked a little nervous, but was unsure if that was due to the change of location or the traffic; Nick seemed to shy away from the window whenever they passed a lorry or other large vehicle. 

They arrived in Kingswear just after two in the afternoon, and David navigated through the winding lanes, following the map carefully until they reached the holiday home David had arranged for them to stay in. 

The agent for the property, an athletic looking man with brown hair and dressed in casual clothes, was waiting outside. If he recognised David or Nick, the man gave no sign, he simply handed David the keys and a small, colourful brochure about local attractions and said he hoped they enjoyed their stay. 

David beckoned Nick from the car as the agent drove away, turning to admire the open fields to the north. 

‘Do you want to go and unlock the door while I get our suitcases?’ he asked Nick, handing over the keys. 

Nick nodded, walking toward the gate, past a faded _Private Property, Keep Out_ sign protruding from longish grass growing in clumps around the edge of a simple wood fence. Behind the fence a line of trees hid the house from view. 

The seclusion was the main reason why David had chosen the house. No part of it was visible from the road or the surrounding fields, and even from the shore the view of the house was almost entirely obscured by the rocky outcrops that enclosed the small bay above which it sat. The bay was the other reason this house in particular had caught David's attention; aside from the one-hundred-foot beach, the entire bay right to the water was part of the private land, with no access except from within the grounds and no public right of way. 

By the time David had retrieved their things from the boot of the car Nick had already moved out of sight. David closed the gate after he went through and walked between the trees to the house. 

It was not large, but not so small as to feel confining. The outer brickwork had been decorated in the style of a cabin, with long stained logs running horizontally along the walls. A raised verandah ran the length of the front aspect, enclosed by a quaint wooden railing the same colour as the logs. 

Leaving the suitcases inside the door, which opened directly into the spacious living area, David looked around at the contemporary furniture and shiny wood floors. To his right was a kitchen area, bordered on three sides by cabinets and an island breakfast bar, to his left a narrow corridor led to what David presumed must be the bedrooms, and directly in front of him a long set of open patio doors offered a view out to sea. 

David looked outside and saw Nick in the lower section of the garden, standing at the railing that skirted the steep drop to the beach. He descended the steps that led down from the decking and walked across the lush grass to Nick's side, watching as Nick stood with his eyes closed, smiling serenely as he listened to the breakers below. 

‘It's beautiful, David,’ Nick said suddenly in a low voice, the words the first indication he even knew David was next to him. He turned to face David, opening his eyes and looking at David with such intensity that David felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked from the surrounding air. 

Nick's eyes had lost their usual grey pallor and were gleaming an astonishing shade of blue, as if stealing colour from the sky and reflecting it outward for David to see. 

_No, you're beautiful_ , David thought, unconsciously holding his breath as he lifted his hand to stroke Nick's face. 

Nick leaned into the touch, the smile on his lips growing a fraction wider and the enchanting blue of his eyes disappearing behind the fluttering of his eyelashes. They had migrated closer to each other, or perhaps David had stepped forward, either way they were so close it took barely an inch more for David to press his lips against Nick's. 

It was less of a kiss, more a gentle, open-mouthed brushing of lips, so very soft and slow. David felt as though he had forgotten how to do more, so lost in the tenderness of the not-quite-kiss that he did not notice Nick's hand in his hair. 

‘Nick,’ David whispered against Nick's lips when the tangle of his stomach grew too intense for him to bear without speaking. 

Nick's answer was a soft whimper and the briefest press of tongue, both sending arousal shooting through David like an arrow. He slipped his hand round to the back of Nick's neck and dipped his tongue into the warmth of Nick's mouth, drawing another moan from deep in Nick's throat. And that was all it took for David to forget where he was standing, forget everything, and kiss Nick again, harder, swallowing the rapid gasps that came from Nick's mouth. 

How long had it been since he had kissed like this? Years, certainly, and even then he could not remember this level of... 

How long had it been since anyone had kissed _Nick_? 

The thought, as well as the unwelcome answer, was sobering, bringing David's senses crashing back to earth in an instant. 

This was not why he had brought Nick here, not to kiss him senseless in the garden, or anywhere else for that matter. 

‘We shouldn't be doing this,’ David said, breaking away. Nick sighed, the sound of it heavy with disappointment as he took a step back, the look on his face filling David's mouth with apologetic words that he was about to speak when Nick interrupted them all. 

‘I think I'll go for a swim,’ Nick said coldly, brushing past David and heading for the steps that led down to the beach. 

David put his head in his hand, feeling guilty for stopping the kiss and for starting it in the first place. He looked over the railing as Nick walked across the bay, tossing his t-shirt off to one side and plunging into the water, disappearing beneath the waves with a few graceful movements. 

David went back to the house and picked up the suitcases to put them in the bedrooms. He left Nick's in the room that looked out over the garden and took his own to the marginally smaller room opposite, where he quickly unpacked, storing his clothes neatly in the drawers and wardrobe. 

Maybe it had been a mistake for him to come here with Nick, for them to be alone with one another at all. David had expected there would be some tension between them as they both tried to keep their feelings under control, but he had not anticipated it would be his own careful reserve that would be shaken loose and left clattering by the wayside. It was something of a surprise. 

Nick, for all of his quiet uncertainty and the innocent ways in which he sought David's affection, was seemingly less confused about his feelings than David was. While David struggled with the knowledge that one simple, unguarded smile from Nick could sweep all of his self-control aside, Nick was honest in his desires but expressed them in very different ways. 

Both times they had kissed it had been David who made the first move, David who took that one step too near; and when David breached the boundary Nick followed eagerly, but David knew somehow Nick would never have acted by himself. 

Even the day at Chequers, years ago, it had been David who had let his hand linger on Nick's, and the only thing that had changed since then was that it was now David who backed away. 

When David went back to the living room he saw the sky was beginning to grow overcast, the fluffy cumulus clouds bulking up and turning ominously dark. He still had to drive to Kingswear and buy something for dinner – the groceries he had ordered would not be delivered until the following morning – but he was reluctant to leave without knowing Nick was all right. 

Grabbing a clean, white towel from the cupboard David plodded out into the garden and made his way down the steep steps to the beach. 

The sun had disappeared, hidden completely by the clouds, and the wind had picked up, giving the air a decided chill. David frowned, wondering why Nick had not returned to the house; if David was bothered by the cold then Nick would be even more so. He found Nick sitting on the sand, t-shirt back on but with damp patches showing clearly against the drier areas. Nick was shivering. 

‘You'll catch a cold,’ David said, walking up behind Nick and wrapping the towel around his shoulders. He knelt down and rubbed his hands briskly along Nick's arms, over the fuzzy cloth. 

‘I wanted to be alone for a while,’ Nick whispered, sounding quite sad to David's ears. He pulled the towel tighter around himself, still looking toward the sea. ‘I'll come up if it rains.’ 

‘I'm going to Kingswear to find a shop. Do you want me to bring you anything?’ David asked. 

Nick shook his head and David stood upright, brushing the clinging grains of sand from his trousers before starting back toward the steps. 

‘David?’ Nick asked, just loud enough that David could hear him above the sounds of the sea. 

‘Yes?’ David answered, stopping and turning around expectantly. 

‘Will you get me some sunscreen, please?’ 

‘If they have it,’ David said. He waited a few seconds for Nick to respond but Nick remained silent, so David climbed back up to the garden, panting as he reached the top of the steps. With one last glance at Nick's lonely, towel-clad figure below, David went to the car.

  


It took David four shops and nearly fifty minutes to find what Nick had asked for, and by the time he had driven back to the house the heavens had opened. David dashed along the path, shielding himself from the splashes of rain with the hem of his jacket, a move that was only partially effective. His hair was dripping water as he grappled with the door knob, cursing when the task of holding on to his shopping bag and turning the handle proved to be too difficult. 

Abandoning his efforts to remain even partially dry, David let go of his jacket and gripped the door knob as firmly as he could with his rain soaked hand, turning it and pushing the door open. He ducked quickly inside and closed the door behind himself, banishing the encroaching rain from the house. 

A curious face poked up from behind the sofa back, stared at him, and Nick laughed. 

‘Get wet did you?’ 

‘What does it look like?’ David replied sarcastically, irritated but also pleased Nick was inside the house; David had half expected to find Nick still sat on the beach, soaked through and freezing cold. 

‘Well, it's your own fault,’ Nick commented unsympathetically, flopping back down on the sofa. ‘I don't know why you went out in the first place. What could we possibly need tonight that wasn't in the welcome hamper?’ 

‘What welcome hamper?’ David asked, stopping midway through the removal of his shoes. 

Nick's head reappeared, looking at David disbelievingly. 

‘You're kidding, right?’ 

David shook his head and Nick pulled a face both exasperated and amused. He grabbed the booklet David had been given and read aloud. 

‘A complimentary welcome hamper will be waiting for you when you arrive, containing useful items for your first night.’ 

‘I didn't read the brochure,’ David admitted, shucking off his coat. 

‘Obviously,’ Nick chuckled, discarding the booklet and standing up. ‘You look like a drowned rat, a very grumpy drowned rat,’ he said, walking over to David and smiling fondly. ‘Why don't you go and change, and I'll make you a nice hot cup of tea?’ 

‘That sounds like just what I need,’ David smiled. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘Mmhm,’ Nick nodded. ‘Off you go, then. You're dripping water everywhere.’ 

‘Right, yes,’ David said, just then noticing the puddle at his feet. He moved in the direction of his bedroom, leaving a trail of damp footprints behind him as he walked. 

Wearing dry clothes and feeling much warmer than he had previously, David went back to the living room. 

In the time it had taken David to change his clothes, Nick had cleaned the water from the floor, put the shopping away, and made David the promised cup of tea, which he handed to David with a smile before going back to his place on the sofa. David sat in the lounge chair, mostly because Nick was sprawled the entire length of the sofa but also because it was some distance away from Nick, which felt safer, somehow, after their earlier kiss. 

Nick was flicking through the TV channels, cycling through a series of expressions as he either did or did not recognise what was being shown, and David watched with growing fascination, laughing silently into his hand at the crash course in television taking place before him. 

Eventually Nick stopped changing the channel, settling on a recent recording of _La Boheme_ showing on the new BBC Arts channel. 

Not really able to follow more than the general plot, David drank his tea in silence, watching from the corner of his eye as Nick lay perfectly still on the sofa, engrossed in the television and the unfolding drama between Mimi and Rodolfo. 

When, during the duet at the end of Act 1, Nick absent-mindedly lifted his leg to scratch his ankle, David saw a series of red marks looping around the skin there and exclaimed in surprise, causing Nick to jump with fright. 

‘What happened to your leg?’ David asked, rushing over and taking hold of Nick's foot. He pulled Nick's trouser leg up to get a better look at the worrying injury, reminiscent of rope burns or something equally unsettling, as Nick stared at him in confusion. 

‘It's fine, David, it's only a jellyfish sting,’ Nick said, pulling his leg away from David's hands and sitting up. 

‘You were stung and you didn't say anything?’ 

‘It happened on Penrhyn, three weeks ago,’ Nick explained. 

‘Oh,’ David said. ‘Does it hurt?’ 

‘Now? No, just itches a little,’ Nick answered. ‘When it happened it hurt like hell, though.’ 

David sat down on the edge of the sofa. 

‘How did it happen?’ he asked, knowing he was asking too many questions but genuinely curious to know the answer. 

‘I didn't see it when I stepped into the water and by the time the pain hit me the thing was wrapped around my ankle. I think I swore in every language I know as I was hopping up the beach.’ Nick looked at David and sympathetically patted him on the shoulder. ‘It's nothing to worry about, really. They take a few weeks to fade, that's all.’ 

‘As long as you're sure it's okay,’ David said, still concerned. Nick squeezed his arm. 

‘I would have been lucky to spend five years there and be stung just this once,’ Nick smiled. ‘As it turns out, I wasn't that lucky. And before you ask, over a dozen, and no, this was not the worst.’ 

‘Regular jellyfish magnet, aren't you?’ David grinned. 

‘Thankfully, no,’ Nick said as he lay down again. ‘Otherwise it would have deterred me from diving for clams, and they are so much easier to catch than birds.’ 

‘Fair point,’ David shrugged. He sat back on the sofa, forgetting his earlier discomfort at the close proximity to Nick. 

‘Now you've calmed down, be quiet and let me finish watching this,’ Nick ordered, wiggling as he attempted to get comfortable in the lesser space he now had. 

After a few minutes Nick apparently decided having his legs curled up between his upper body and David was too cramped, and extended them so his feet were resting in David's lap. 

‘Enough room there?’ David asked jokingly. ‘I can move if you like.’ 

‘You can stay, you're keeping my feet warm,’ Nick answered, poking David's knee playfully with his toes. 

‘Glad to be of service,’ David laughed. He put his hand on the lower part of Nick's calf, feeling the occasional stirring of Nick's leg as they continued to watch the rest of _La Boheme_ in silence. 

By the time Mimi and Rodolfo reached the end of their tragic romance, David's eyes felt more than a little watery. He looked to his side and saw Nick had fallen asleep at some point, head resting on one of the cushions and hands clasped in front of his face. 

_He really does fall asleep at the oddest times_ , David thought, clambering carefully out from under Nick's legs and switching off the television. 

It was approaching five o'clock and David decided he would make a start on dinner while Nick was sleeping. Hopefully when Nick woke he would be hungry; neither of them had eaten a proper lunch due to the long journey. 

David found the welcome hamper Nick had mentioned on a shelf at the end of the breakfast bar, but Nick had transferred most of what it contained into the fridge and cupboards, leaving only the smaller items like packets of biscuits and an assortment of different crackers. 

Looking in the cupboards David pulled out a few simple ingredients. He was not really in the mood to cook, although he did enjoy working in the kitchen, and he selected things that could be eaten as they were, stacking them on the counter and getting out plates and cutlery. 

After preparing a simple ham salad David walked back to the sofa and leaned down over the back, shaking Nick gently by the shoulder to wake him. Nick looked up and blinked sleepily. 

‘Are you hungry?’ David asked. 

‘Mm,’ Nick mumbled in reply, rubbing heavily at his face. ‘How long did I sleep?’ 

‘Maybe an hour,’ David smiled, fighting the urge to reach down and brush the untidy curls of hair away from Nick's forehead. He walked away as Nick sat up, struggling with thoughts of how Nick always seemed more relaxed when he had just woken up, and how the slight air of vulnerability made David feel protective of him. 

Part of David knew staying with Nick was a risky move. It was not Nick he did not trust, but rather himself, his own actions he felt needed to be constantly monitored, and the more aware of them he became the more he realised he was skirting dangerously close to not being able to keep his feelings under control. 

That troubled David greatly. 

Things were hard enough for Nick already without David burdening him with the impossibilities of a relationship that could never work out. There was no way they could actually be together after all, and it would not be fair to allow anything to happen between them, even if they both wanted it. 

‘You're awfully quiet, there,’ Nick commented as he sat down at the table. 

‘I was just thinking,’ David said. ‘What would you like to do tomorrow?’ 

Nick shrugged, scooping salad onto his plate from the serving bowl. 

‘I'm happy to stay here, maybe take a swim if the weather is good.’ 

‘You don't want to go out?’ 

‘Not really,’ Nick said. ‘It's nice to be somewhere without people everywhere. Chequers is a fine place, but there are a lot of staff.’ 

‘Yes, it's hard to forget about work when people are always handing you files,’ David agreed. 

‘Ah, so this little trip of ours is so you can escape the office,’ Nick grinned. ‘Very sneaky.’ 

‘I merely took advantage of it,’ David countered cheerfully. ‘It wasn't planned like that.’ 

‘But it was planned, wasn't it?’ Nick asked. The light tone of Nick's voice belied the seriousness of the question, and David considered carefully before answering, eating a few mouthfuls of his dinner. 

‘Yes,’ he said finally. 

‘By you?’ Nick questioned in the same casual voice as before. 

‘Not entirely,’ David replied, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. He pushed a piece of cucumber around his plate with his fork, looking down at the tabletop. ‘We thought you would be more comfortable without all the staff around.’ 

‘I am,’ Nick said, ‘but, David...’ Nick sighed, touching a hand to his mouth. ‘Everyone is so concerned, so taken with their own ideas of how to be helpful, no one has even thought to ask what _I_ want.’ 

‘What do you want?’ David asked, looking up and studying Nick across the table. 

‘I–’ Nick began, then stopped and laughed once into his hand. ‘It's not that I am not grateful, or that you're not right, I do feel more comfortable here than I did at Chequers. It would have been nice to be consulted, that's all.’ 

‘I'm sorry, I should have talked to you beforehand,’ David said. 

‘You were only doing what you thought was best,’ Nick answered. He reached across the table and squeezed David's forearm. ‘I want you to understand what this is like, I think I need that. On Penrhyn I had to do everything for myself. I don't know if you can understand how that feels, to have no one but yourself for so long? Being back, all these decisions are being made about me... I feel a bit powerless.’ 

‘I can't even begin to imagine what it must have been like,’ David said apologetically. ‘To be that alone.’ 

He frowned, feeling his words were inadequate, but Nick was still smiling at him, the hand on David's arm caressing lightly through the fabric of the casual shirt David had changed in to. 

‘I want to understand,’ David added, placing his hand on top of Nick's. ‘Tell me?’ 

‘At first you miss everyone all the time. You sit and think about what they might be doing, or if they are thinking about you. But after a while being on your own gets to be normal. It's just something that is; your thoughts are your own and there is no one to share them with.’ 

Nick glanced nervously down at the meal before him, running the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, followed by his teeth. 

‘After a few years you don't even feel lonely any more, not most of the time, anyway.’ 

‘How did you keep going?’ David asked in a hushed voice, feeling somewhat in awe of the man sitting in front of him. David could not comprehend the isolation Nick must have felt in the early days when he realised no one was going to find him, the sheer desolation of what Nick had described; to have been on his own for so long he had reached a point where the emotion he felt had transcended loneliness and become something more, something deeper and inexpressible in words. 

‘You just do,’ Nick answered. ‘You learn to survive and you stop missing things you don't have. One day you realise you're used to it, and the thought of things being different, of someone finding you, has gone away.’ 

‘It sounds like losing hope,’ David said sadly. 

‘There was always hope, David,’ Nick smiled wryly. ‘But hope won't feed you.’ 

‘Didn't you think you would be rescued?’ David asked, and instantly regretted it. 

Nick did not answer, but the ever-so-slightly extended blink of his eyes told David everything he needed to know; Nick had not expected to ever come home. Perhaps in the beginning he had hoped for it, but he had eventually come to view his situation as permanent. 

‘Oh, Nick,’ David breathed. 

Nick looked at him, face expressionless but eyes full of a kind of guilty despair that made David's heart ache, yet he did not know which of the things Nick had said it was for; the loneliness of being on Penrhyn or the fact Nick had accepted it as normal, sometimes even missed it. 

‘Do you understand now?’ Nick whispered, eyebrows knitting together the tiniest fraction. David stood up and walked around the table to where Nick sat. He pulled Nick to him, bending down at an awkward, uncomfortable angle so he could wrap both of his arms around Nick's shoulders. 

‘I don't think I can understand that, not really,’ David whispered into Nick's ear. ‘But I'm here, no matter what you need to talk about.’ 

‘I missed you,’ Nick voiced suddenly, craning upward into David's hold and burying his face in the crook of David's neck. David stroked Nick's back gently and pressed a quick kiss to the skin behind Nick's ear. If Nick noticed the latter action he did not react, and David felt a brief burst of relief, even as he wondered why it was that he could not stop himself from repeating the kiss a few seconds later. 

David let go and stood up, deliberately not looking at Nick, fearing the consequences if he should. 

When he did glance at Nick, after he had sat down again, he saw Nick also seemed reluctant to make eye contact and was keeping his gaze averted. David felt something break inside of himself, the quick, sharp snap of clarity ringing loudly in his ears; Nick was struggling to keep control as much as he was. 

Seeing it there, the external manifestation of the internal effort so evident in Nick's actions, the way he knotted his hands together in front of himself to stop them shaking, David wondered which of them was trying to fool themselves, and if either of them were succeeding. 

‘What would you like to do after dinner?’ David asked, his attempt at a casual tone failing, the words were strained. 

‘I don't know,’ Nick answered, paying greater attention to his plate than was necessary. ‘Watch television maybe? It's too dark to go swimming.’ 

‘And it's raining,’ David said, feeling the level of tension drop to a more bearable level, although it did not vanish completely. 

‘Yes.’ Nick smiled at David, his expression hesitant and sweetly shy, endearing. David smiled back. 

‘Oh,’ Nick exclaimed suddenly, ‘it's almost six!’ 

‘Yes it is,’ David agreed confusedly. 

‘Doctor Rimbaugh said he would call to see how the move went,’ Nick went on, getting up from the table. ‘If you don't mind I– I'd rather be alone when I talk to him.’ 

‘Not at all,’ David replied. He waved his hand at the dinner plates. ‘I'll clean these up.’ 

Nick's phone rang and Nick scooped it up from the table beside the sofa, answering as he walked out of the room. 

‘Arthur, hello. No, I just finished my dinner. Yes, it's–’ 

The words were cut off as Nick's bedroom door clicked closed.


	8. Chapter 8

# Chapter Eight

  


When Nick returned from the bedroom it was past seven-thirty, and he flopped down on the sofa next to David. 

‘Have a nice chat?’ David asked, turning the television to BBC One in anticipation of watching the latest episode of _Moyen's Game_ at eight o'clock. It would make a nice change to watch it on a Wednesday rather than catching the Sunday night repeat. 

‘It's therapy, I don't think it's supposed to be nice,’ Nick replied, sounding irritated. He sighed, shaking his head. ‘I'm sorry, it's difficult to deal with what we talked about.’ 

‘It didn't go well, I take it?’ 

‘As Arthur is so fond of telling me, 'well' is a subjective term,’ Nick said, pulling his legs up under himself. ‘Can we not talk about it?’ 

‘Not if you don't want to,’ David smiled. ‘Can I interest you in a mind-numbingly boring soap opera?’ 

‘Soap opera?’ Nick laughed. ‘I didn't know you watched them!’ 

‘I don't, I'm waiting for Moyen's Game to start,’ David said, putting down the remote and arranging himself comfortably against the arm of the sofa. 

‘What's 'Moyen's Game'?’ Nick asked, shifting position as well, not quite leaning against David's shoulder. 

‘It's a detective show that's been running since last year,’ David answered. He folded his hands in his lap and tilted a little further toward the arm-rest. 

In spite of the fact they were not touching, the setting felt strangely intimate to David. During the time Nick had been talking to Doctor Rimbaugh, David had drawn the curtains and turned off the overhead light, preferring the softer glow of the floor lamp in the corner, as he often did at home of an evening. Now, in the lower light, it felt as though they should be curled up with each other on the sofa instead of just sat next to each other as they currently were. 

That was what eventually happened. 

By the time the opening credits started Nick had moved again, his shoulder pressing against David's, and halfway through the programme they had shifted so much that Nick's head was resting fully against David's chest and David's arm was draped down across Nick's back, their legs extended along the sofa and partially entwined. 

Neither of them had commented on the change in position. 

‘Who's that?’ Nick asked. His fingers had been toying with the cuff of David's shirt for at least five minutes, and even though David knew the action was unconscious, since Nick was undoubtedly following the story on screen, he still found it pleasant, if a little distracting. 

‘That's Jackson,’ David answered. ‘He used to be a gun runner in Peru, but now he's Moyen's inside man.’ 

‘And he's married to Celeste?’ 

‘No. Celeste is Moyen's sister, she used to be married to Moyen's old partner, Finchley,’ David explained. He rubbed his thumb along Nick's side in a small circle, realised he was doing it, and stopped. 

‘Finchley's the one who is in prison for corruption, right?’ Nick asked. 

‘Right,’ David nodded. His thumb had begun tracing circles again, but this time David did not notice because Nick's fingers were making tiny, delicate movements along his wrist, sending little tingles dancing up David's arm. 

‘So who is the other lady?’ 

‘That's Laura, Moyen's on-and-off girlfriend. She owns a bar in Soho with an illegal poker den in the cellar,’ David said. 

The rest of his explanation disappeared in a tangle of unspoken words as Nick fidgeted beside him, nuzzling his face against David's chest and murmuring a question about what Moyen thought of the illegal gambling. David became gradually aware that the reason why Nick was wiggling was because he was massaging Nick's back with his palm, drawing Nick closer to him with every sweep of his hand. 

‘That's nice, David,’ Nick whispered, his attention to the television slipping away entirely. ‘Don't stop.’ 

_I couldn't if I wanted to_ , David thought at the last two words, pressing harder with his hand and listening to Nick's breathy moans in response. Nick's restless writhing had brought his face level with David's neck, and David gasped as Nick's lips brushed along his skin; hot breath mingled with the sound of an inarticulate whimper of his name setting David's heart racing. He lifted his free hand and tangled his fingers in Nick's hair, losing himself in the sound and sensation of the moment. 

Attempting to twist his body so he was facing Nick, wanting to kiss Nick so desperately that he thought the longing would burn a hole right through him, David dislodged the cushion he had earlier placed beneath his head for comfort and found himself crushed painfully against the sofa, a dull ache at the back of his neck where it rested against the edge of the arm-rest. He groaned in pain, trying to shift himself but unable to do so because of Nick's weight on top of him. 

‘Nick, stop,’ David mumbled, holding Nick still with both hands. 

Nick stopped, and David again tried to turn on his side, but then thought the sofa was hardly the most comfortable place and it would be better if they went to bed. He was just about to suggest it when Nick abruptly got up and left. 

The sound of the bedroom door slamming closed echoed along the hallway. 

‘Nick?’ David called, jumping up from the sofa and walking to Nick's bedroom. He opened the door and looked inside. Nick was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees and head in hands. 

‘Nick?’ David said again as he approached. 

‘Go away, David,’ Nick replied wearily, without looking up. 

‘What's wrong?’ David asked, frowning as he knelt down beside the bed and reached up to pull Nick's hands away from his face. 

‘Please don't,’ Nick whispered in a pained voice, flinching away from the touch. David paused with his hand on Nick's arm, about to repeat his question when Nick spoke again. ‘Don't you think this is difficult enough without you– If you're always going to stop then you shouldn't, you shouldn't–’ 

Nick broke off, his words descending into muffled sounds of unhappiness, and David sat back on his heels, realising Nick had misunderstood his intentions. 

‘It's not fair to me,’ Nick sobbed, ‘to make me feel like this and keep snatching it away. Don't make me hope for something I can't have. Please, don't make me hope – not when I don't have anything.’ 

David watched as Nick slumped in on himself, cradling his head with his arm, his whole body shuddering. 

_David, you fucking idiot_ , he cursed inwardly, understanding the reason for Nick's upset; how confusing all of his mixed messages must have been and how easily his asking Nick to stop could be misconstrued. 

Rising to his knees David dragged Nick forward and held Nick's still shaking body in his arms. 

‘Oh love, I'm sorry,’ he said, surprising himself with the endearment, which seemed to come from nowhere. Nick struggled against him for a moment and then stilled, his weight falling forward so David had to steady himself in order not to lose his balance. David kissed Nick's head and hushed him, speaking gently into his ear. 

‘I didn't mean to say you should stop, not like you thought I meant it. The sofa was hurting my neck and I wanted to take you to bed,’ David explained softly. 

‘Oh,’ Nick breathed, clutching David's shirt. He lifted his head and looked at David, biting his lip in uncertainty and embarrassment. 

‘Nick Clegg,’ David said, kissing Nick's cheek tenderly. ‘Do you have any idea what you do to me?’ 

‘Not really,’ Nick replied, shaking his head. 

Smiling, David brought his hand to Nick's cheek, caressing lightly and watching as Nick leaned into the touch like a cat. 

‘You're beautiful, you know,’ David whispered. ‘It's been driving me crazy, not to touch you, so crazy I didn't see how much I was upsetting you.’ 

‘What?’ Nick gasped, low and uneven. David kissed him softly at the base of his throat, listening to the slight catch of breath in his ear. 

‘I want so very much to hold you,’ David continued, sprinkling kisses along Nick's neck between words. ‘And kiss you, and hear you make more of those wonderful sounds, like you are right now.’ 

‘David,’ Nick whimpered. He was breathing fast and trembling, tilting his head to one side as David pulled the collar of Nick's t-shirt aside and brushed his lips along Nick's shoulder. 

‘You sound wonderful,’ David said, sliding his hands down the bare skin of Nick's arms to his hands and grasping them gently in his own, moving them aside so he could reach the hem of Nick's top and lift it over Nick's head. He dropped it on the floor beside the bed and slipped his arms around Nick's waist, tugging Nick forward a little more. 

‘And you feel wonderful,’ he whispered, returning his mouth to Nick's skin, alternating teeth and tongue and lips in a lazy, meandering line along Nick's jaw to his ear. 

Nick inhaled sharply, moaning loudly in a broken voice as David swiped his tongue around the shell of his ear. He jumped in David's arms, and his trembling fingers found their way to the buttons on David's shirt, fumbling clumsily to unbutton them. 

‘And you _are_ wonderful,’ David breathed in Nick's ear. He wrapped his hands around Nick's shaking fingers and stilled them. ‘But if you don't want to do this?’ 

‘I do! – It's,’ Nick said, falteringly, biting his lip as David looked at him. ‘It's been a long time, I'm– I'm nervous.’ Nick smiled, shyly, laughing a little. ‘Bloody ridiculous, isn't it?’ 

‘No,’ David replied, shaking his head. ‘Six years is a long time, I can see how it would be unnerving.’ 

‘It's closer to nine,’ Nick admitted, ‘and it's, well it's you, and me, and... I never thought we would actually ever _do_ anything. It's a little overwhelming.’ 

‘We don't _have_ to do anything,’ David said, lifting Nick's hands to his mouth and kissing his fingers. ‘Not if you don't want to.’ 

Nick freed one of his hands from David's hold and touched David's face, running his fingers tentatively across David's forehead to his temple, over the outline of his ear, and down to the nape of David's neck. 

‘I do want to,’ he whispered, gazing at David intently, the sincerity in his eyes reassuring. ‘You're nothing like I expected.’ 

‘Oh?’ David chuckled. ‘And just what did you expect?’ 

Laughing softly, Nick ducked his head. 

‘I always pictured you as more stolid, the quiet type. Not that the talking wasn't– You're quite the charmer when you want to be.’ 

‘Liked that, did you?’ David teased, grinning as Nick nodded bashfully and wrung his hands together with evident nervousness. David smiled and got up, dragging Nick gently to his feet. ‘Bed?’ 

‘Not yet,’ Nick whispered. He brought his hands back to the buttons of David's shirt, not trembling this time, and began to flick them open, fingers working nimbly, one to the next, down to the waistband of David's trousers. Nick hesitated there for a second before stepping forward and reaching around David's waist to tug the shirt free, the action bringing them close enough to share breath, and for a moment both of them stood perfectly still, breathing steadily and watching each other. 

When they did move again David was surprised by how slowly time seemed to be passing. Nick slid David's shirt from his shoulders, followed the bunching cloth with his hands, down David's arms, and David let it fall to the floor before catching Nick around the waist, holding loosely as he felt Nick's wiry chest hair tickling his torso. 

With one hand splayed across Nick's back, David leaned in to kiss Nick again. He heard himself give a short moan as he felt the warmth of Nick's tongue dance along his lips in the same not-quite-kiss they had shared that very morning, except now Nick's hands were in his hair, ruffling the careful styling to ruin with his fingers. David held him closer, trying to ignore how small the circle of Nick's waist felt, why that was so, as he slid one hand down to grasp the firm curve of Nick's buttock. Nick gasped and groaned, kissing David harder and tugging at David's trousers as he undid the zip and pushed them down; they fell, tumbling to a heap around David's ankles, and he tried to step out of them and kick them away, only half paying attention. 

Having managed to get one of his feet free from the now tangled mess of his trousers, David realised the other was caught, his shoe preventing him from getting it loose. He laughed, putting his head on Nick's shoulder. 

‘Something funny?’ Nick asked, his hands stopping where they were. 

‘My foot is stuck,’ David murmured, kissing Nick's shoulder in apology. 

Nick looked down, and a few seconds later David heard him chuckle. 

‘Maybe you should take your shoes off.’ 

‘But that would mean letting you go,’ David replied, nipping at Nick's skin lightly with his teeth. 

‘Preferable, I think,’ Nick said, pushing David back slightly. ‘You could fall over. Plus it looks ridiculous.’ 

Glancing to his feet David saw Nick was right, it looked comically stupid; his pale legs disappearing beneath his socks and the trouser leg stuck so firmly over his shoe. David sat down, bending over and struggling with the troublesome trouser leg, before giving up and simply removing his shoes and then his socks. 

‘I have to say,’ Nick commented as he sat down next to David and removed his own trousers with much greater ease, thanks to his shoeless feet, ‘that I never imagined you getting tangled up in your trousers.’ Nick threw his trousers down next to his t-shirt. ‘But then, this isn't turning out anything like I imagined it would be.’ 

‘Not disappointed, I hope?’ David asked, lying back on the bed, turning onto his side as Nick lay down next to him. 

‘No,’ Nick replied, smiling and pulling David close to kiss him. 

There was something so different about being in bed with Nick, both of them wearing nothing but boxer shorts and the way Nick's hand was folded lightly over David's hip, that sent an unexpected flutter of nervousness rolling through David's stomach. 

This would change things, what they were doing, and David was not at all sure how, only that it would, perhaps not for the better. 

Yet both of them seemed to need this, each for their own reasons, maybe even the same reason. 

David thought back to his relationship of two years before, what Andrew had said when ending it: _I'm sorry but you're too closed off_. 

At the time David had convinced himself he was merely _too busy_ to be deeply involved with someone, but after some time had passed he had realised Andrew was right. If he had cared he would have made the time to spend with Andrew, he had done so for Nick, despite every bit of his good sense saying he should not have. 

If Nick needed to be close to someone after nearly six years of solitude – needed to know he _could_ be close to someone again or to banish the ever-present loneliness he had known – then David needed it just as much; to let himself be with someone without thoughts of career and country and what might happen tomorrow; to allow himself to be vulnerable. 

‘David?’ Nick whispered, resting his head on the pillow they were sharing. 

‘Yes?’ 

‘What will happen on Monday? After you leave?’ Nick asked. 

‘I don't know,’ David answered truthfully. He had tried not to think of it too much. 

‘I can't go with you, can I,’ Nick said quietly, sadly. 

‘No,’ David replied, regretting the answer for the flash of hurt that passed over Nick's face. He searched for words of comfort but could find nothing more substantial than: ‘You wouldn't like Downing Street anyway, it's even more crowded than Chequers.’ 

‘Arthur thinks I should start getting myself used to being around people again,’ Nick whispered. ‘He suggested we start meeting in person to work on it.’ 

‘What do you think?’ David asked. 

‘I think he's right,’ Nick replied, ‘but that doesn't make it any less daunting.’ 

‘It will be all right,’ David said reassuringly, hugging Nick close to him. ‘You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. There aren't many people who could go through what you have and stay sane.’ 

‘I don't think I stayed entirely sane,’ Nick huffed in amusement, rubbing his cheek softly over David's shoulder. ‘I mean, here I am, practically naked, in bed with a charming, handsome man, and I'm talking his ear off.’ 

‘Undoubtedly mad as a hatter,’ David joked. ‘Shall I get you a straight-jacket and put you in a nice padded room?’ 

‘It's not quite that bad,’ Nick said. ‘Besides, this is much nicer.’ He wriggled a little nearer to David, wrapping his limbs around David's body. ‘Will you stay tonight?’ 

‘Of course,’ David told him, feeling confused at the question. Nick sighed happily, nestling against David's side in such a way it made David realise Nick was tired. 

‘Usually you're gone when I wake up,’ Nick muttered. 

That was true; the last two times they had shared a bed, although neither had been in quite the same circumstances as this, David had left while Nick was still sleeping. 

Thinking about it, David was looking forward to spending the night with Nick and not feeling like he should leave at the first opportunity, even if they did nothing more than hold each other as they were right now. 

‘I'll be here in the morning,’ David said, stroking Nick's hair and smiling as Nick craned his neck to kiss him on the cheek. 

As Nick settled his head back on David's shoulder he whispered: ‘We left the television on.’ 

‘It will switch itself off in a few hours,’ David replied, unconcerned. He was comfortable and did not want to get out of bed, or for Nick to. 

‘That's good,’ Nick said. ‘I don't want to get up. I'm tired.’ 

‘Go to sleep then,’ David hummed, brushing his hand along Nick's arm. Nick breathed in deeply and said goodnight.

  


David woke first, yawning and feeling the solid warmth of Nick wrapped around him, holding him tight, as though his sleeping mind was afraid David would leave if he let go, or would simply vanish. David yawned a second time and stretched one arm toward the ceiling to rid it of a lingering stiffness as he tried to discern the reason for his waking in the middle of the night. He rolled onto his back. The movement did not dislodge Nick's clinging limbs but, a few seconds later, Nick too yawned and stirred from sleep. 

‘Sorry, did I wake you?’ David asked softly. 

‘No,’ Nick answered. ‘I was having a strange dream.’ 

David listened to the sound of Nick rubbing at his face, the slow sound of skin on skin loud in the darkness amidst the rustle of the bedsheets as Nick curled more comfortably around him, moving the arm that was trapped between them out of the way. 

‘Bad?’ David questioned. 

‘Not bad, just strange,’ Nick said, his voice low and drowsy. ‘I had a Cabinet of coconuts.’ 

Thinking Nick must still be half asleep, or perhaps even talking in his sleep, David did not answer right away, mentally picturing a cupboard overflowing with coconuts. It was an odd thing to dream about. 

‘They were all sitting around the table with red folders in front of them,’ Nick went on. ‘But none of them would speak to me so I threw them in the ocean.’ 

‘Oh, a _Cabinet_ ,’ David said as comprehension dawned, laughing at his own lack of understanding. ‘That certainly is strange.’ 

He turned his head, meaning to kiss Nick somewhere in the region of his forehead, but just at that moment Nick looked up and David found he was instead kissing Nick on the lips. 

When David moved his head back, Nick followed, chased for a second kiss, then a third, pressing his lips against David's and humming low in the back of his throat, and David responded by turning onto his side so he could hold Nick's neck and kiss deeper. He felt Nick shiver, heard him make a sound that could have been 'David' but came out as a high pitched moan, before the arm that Nick had wrapped around David's waist stirred to life; pressed palm-flat on David's back and pulled their bodies tight together. 

‘I want you,’ Nick breathed roughly against David's mouth. ‘Please don't stop.’ 

At the last words David kissed Nick, hard, wanting to bring an end to any worry Nick still had that he would stop, or leave, as he had before. He ran his hand down Nick's side to his hip, lower, palming the front of Nick's boxers and feeling Nick already hard beneath them. 

David trailed his lips along Nick's neck, dipping his tongue into the delicate hollow at the base of Nick's throat, and let his hand stray under the fabric of Nick's underwear to bare skin. Nick gasped and panted in his ear, trembling as David made a few long, slow strokes. 

_This won't last long_ , David thought with uncanny clarity. 

The idea was oddly thrilling, along with the way Nick seemed to feel every movement of his hand so keenly; already sobbing and shaking, his fingers digging into David's shoulder. 

There had never been a time David could remember when his touching someone like this had set them to such helpless, stuttering need. Every muscle in Nick's body was wound taut as a bowstring ready to snap, every touch of David's hands and mouth was met with a ragged series of exhaled breaths, or with a gasp of his name. 

Nick was lost completely, and utterly unable to do anything but bury his head in David's shoulder and cling to him. 

As he listened to Nick's soft, hot, and breathless groans and whimpers, and felt Nick's body move beneath his hands, David felt the strange protective instinct rise in himself again. 

The steady awareness of holding Nick at what seemed to be his most vulnerable, most fragile moment; the realisation that his only thought was for Nick, and everything he himself wanted or might have wanted had slipped away into unimportance; the knowledge that he could strip away every inch of Nick's usual nervousness and worry, could make them fade to nothing with a touch of his hand, was like nothing David had ever known. 

David pressed his mouth close to Nick's ear and whispered to him, saying anything and nothing, wanting Nick to hear his voice and _wanting_ to hear Nick lose control. With the words, Nick broke, crying out as he came; collapsed and lay shuddering and quaking in David's arms. 

David kissed him, brushing the damp clumps of hair away from Nick's forehead and staring in wonder as Nick opened his eyes. 

‘I'm sorry,’ Nick whispered a few moments later, still breathing hard. 

‘That's the single most confusing response I've ever had,’ David said with an amused frown. ‘Sorry for what?’ 

‘I didn't even do anything,’ Nick replied, biting his lip. 

‘Oh,’ David chuckled. He rubbed the tip of his nose against Nick's. ‘I didn't give you much of a chance to, did I?’ 

‘No you didn't,’ Nick laughed softly, wriggling nervously in David's arms. ‘I just thought– This is nothing like I pictured it.’ 

‘So you've pictured this then?’ David joked. ‘Do tell.’ 

Nick laughed again, then said in a serious voice, ‘That's not what I meant.’ 

‘What did you mean?’ David asked, beginning to realise Nick's thoughts had turned back to the time spent on Penrhyn. David had hoped Nick would be able to put those memories aside, at least for a few hours, but that seemed a foolish thing to hope for when David thought about it; it could never be that simple. Nick remained silent, apparently hesitant to tell David what he had been thinking, and David almost regretted asking, but Nick eventually found his voice, talking very low as he pressed himself tightly against David's side. 

‘I used to dream about you,’ Nick whispered. ‘Not like this. I mean, not what we just did. Well, that too once, but... I used to dream I was home. I never knew how I got home but I was. Then of course I would wake up. I– I don't think I've ever felt so lonely as I did right then, when I woke up and realised none of it was real. 

‘That's not even it, though,’ Nick continued. ‘Because now I _am_ home, but there's this huge and terrible thought in my mind that any second now I'll wake up and be back on Penrhyn. Alone. I don't want to be alone any more, David.’ 

‘You're not alone,’ David said, holding Nick tight and stroking his hair with rhythmic insistence. 

‘What you must think of me,’ Nick mumbled in frustration. ‘I can't even do this right.’ 

‘I don't think there is a 'right way' to do this,’ David smiled, tucking his fingers under Nick's chin and lifting Nick's head until their eyes met. ‘And no more talk of this being a dream, because it is real.’ 

‘That's what you would say if I were dreaming,’ Nick answered, his tone lightly mocking. 

‘Hm, and I suppose I get stuck in my shoe in your dreams, too?’ David questioned. 

‘Not once,’ Nick grinned. ‘Dream you is much more suave.’ 

‘Well, it's nice to know one of us isn't completely clumsy,’ David snickered. ‘Though I wish it was me, obviously.’ 

Nick laughed. ‘I like that you're clumsy,’ he said. ‘It's sort of... reassuring. Dreams are always perfect.’ 

‘I'm definitely not perfect.’ David shook his head and pulled Nick closer, yawning as he felt sleep tugging at him. 

‘Oh, definitely not,’ Nick agreed. He shuffled and pulled the wayward blanket over them. David closed his eyes, cocooning Nick in his arms, overcome with tiredness. Nick fidgeted for a few moments as he made himself comfortable, and whispered, voice more contented than David had heard since Nick's return, ‘But you're real.’


	9. Chapter 9

# Chapter Nine

  


Waking the following morning in a tangle of blanket, David stretched lazily, smiling serenely as he turned on his side and looked at the ticking clock that sat on the unit beside the bed. Ten past eleven. He sat up, trying to recall when he had last slept so late; probably the last time he had stayed awake nearly all night with– 

‘Nick?’ David said groggily, realising then Nick was not next to him. David eyed the scattering of his and Nick's clothes strewn across the floor next to the bed, and then heard the faint sound of singing, out of tune and unmistakably Nick, coming from beyond the bedroom door. 

_‘... no matter what may be the style or season...’_

Grinning, David reached over the side of the bed and tried to locate his boxers, picking up one item of clothing after another and frowning when he could not find them among the discarded clothing. He grabbed his trousers and pulled them on swiftly, going to the door and peering along the hallway. 

Nick was still singing, oblivious to everything about him as he reached into the fridge and took out the milk. 

_‘...my heart is lighter. Every time you're walking by my side...’_

David covered his mouth with his hand, laughing to himself and moving forward so he could lean against the wall while he watched Nick go about his business. 

Aside from the terrible singing, another thing added to the absurdity of the situation: Nick was wearing David's underwear, but with Nick being now several sizes smaller the boxers hung low, barely clinging to Nick's hips. They looked ready to fall any second, a fact not helped by Nick's phone being clipped to them, the weight of it distorting the waistband. 

Nick had stopped singing and was now humming along with the chorus of the song he was listening to, taking a sip of tea as he buttered a slice of toast, and David let his eyes drift over the exposed skin of Nick's back and legs. He had to admit, despite their being far too large, Nick looked good in the boxers; Nick looked good, period. His toned and muscular physique made David feel momentarily self-conscious, out of shape and confused what Nick could possibly see in him, with his slightly pudgy midsection and receding hairline. 

That he knew what Nick's body felt like under his hands seemed unreal and if Nick had been fully clothed instead of nearly naked, David might have questioned whether it had happened at all. He walked over to where Nick was standing next to the counter, still humming, and kissed him on the back of the neck. 

‘Good morning.’ 

‘Hey, look who's finally awake,’ Nick said cheerfully, and a bit too loudly thanks to his headphones. He turned to David, face lit up in happiness. ‘Good morning, lazybones. Tea?’ 

‘Tea would be lovely,’ David answered, pulling the headphones out of Nick's ears so he would be heard. ‘Do you know you're wearing my clothes?’ 

‘Grabbed the first thing I found,’ Nick shrugged, looking down. Then he chuckled, ‘I had to escape the sound of you snoring.’ 

‘I do not snore,’ David exclaimed, but Nick only laughed louder. 

‘Do too, rather loudly in fact. You woke me up.’ 

‘Your singing woke me up,’ David said. 

‘Gosh, I guess we're even, then,’ Nick laughed. ‘I hope you're not deaf or anything.’ 

‘Oh, I'm traumatised,’ David teased, kissing Nick on the cheek. ‘Probably for life.’ 

‘That bad was it?’ Nick asked, eyebrows raising. 

‘Would've been better if you'd still been in bed when I woke up.’ 

‘You were snoring, I was hungry,’ Nick said, handing David a fresh cup of tea and stepping away from the counter. He rubbed his hand over the scar on his chest, scratched it absently while David pretended not to notice. ‘I would have stayed if I'd known you wanted me to.’ 

‘Why wouldn't I want you to?’ David frowned, bothered by the sudden wariness in Nick's voice and the way Nick was now avoiding looking at him. 

‘You might have changed your mind,’ Nick replied, staring at the floor. ‘Or been disappointed.’ 

‘Disappointed?’ David echoed. He put his tea down and took Nick's hand. ‘Is that what you think I am?’ 

Nick shrugged, and David sat down with a sigh, dragging Nick to the chair opposite him. 

‘What's this about, then?’ he asked, putting his hands on Nick's shoulders. 

‘It's nothing,’ Nick replied. 

‘It doesn't seem like nothing, Nick,’ David insisted, bending forward. ‘Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong?’ 

‘Nothing is wrong. Really, David, it's nothing,’ Nick mumbled, glancing at David with a bashful smile. ‘I'm being terribly insecure and ridiculous, that's all.’ Nick laughed ruefully and put a hand over his face, shaking his head. ‘Why on earth would you want someone who is such a mess? Who feels too panicky to stay in bed and then gets maudlin over it.’ 

‘Well for one thing he looks good in my clothes,’ David said. ‘Gorgeous, as a matter of fact. And for another...’ David tugged Nick's chair across the floor until their knees were touching, then leaned forward to kiss Nick quickly. ‘For another, he's not such a mess as he thinks he is, just worries too much.’ 

‘You're making light of things,’ Nick admonished. 

‘Only where it's needed,’ David replied, returning his hands to Nick's shoulders. ‘Why were you too panicky to stay in bed?’ 

‘I don't know,’ Nick answered. ‘I just had to get up.’ 

‘Maybe you should speak with Arthur about that?’ David suggested gently, rubbing his thumb along Nick's neck as Nick let out a long, relaxed sigh and then smiled. 

‘And risk another lecture on how sleeping with you is a bad idea? I think I'll pass.’ 

‘Another lecture?’ David squeaked, suddenly alarmed. ‘You mean you told him?’ 

‘Not all of it, not about the– I didn't mean to. I was asking about something else and it slipped out. I'm sorry,’ Nick explained, flushing with guilt. 

David sat silently, wondering what Nick had been talking about when he had made the inadvertent disclosure to his therapist, and then asking himself why it bothered him so much. It was not as if the man could tell anyone what he and Nick discussed during their sessions. 

Though he had conspired to keep the knowledge of their move to Devon secret, and was undoubtedly worried what would happen should the wider public learn of the nature of their relationship, that was not David's main concern. During the past two days those things had begun to seem less important. It was that Nick had once again kept something from him that troubled David the most. He did not expect Nick to tell him every thought in his head, but David again had the nagging feeling Nick was deliberately keeping some part of himself closed off, that there was something he was holding back, and that filled David with an inexplicable sense of apprehension. 

Nick rested his hand on David's knee, face creased with nervousness. 

‘I was asking him about my sleeping on the floor,’ he said quietly. ‘The night you got back from Germany, and... It was an accident, I swear. I know you don't want anyone to know.’ 

‘It's not that,’ David reassured quickly. ‘People already know.’ 

He stopped, studying Nick carefully, but Nick's face was unreadable beneath the nervous frown. 

‘I guess I wish you would talk to me,’ he added finally. 

Nick began to chew on his bottom lip. 

‘There are things I _can't_ talk about, David, not to you,’ Nick said. He placed his hand over David's and squeezed gently. ‘Please understand, some things I am not ready to tell anyone yet, I need to work through them myself first, and I have questions you couldn't possibly answer. Arthur is a stranger, he didn't know me before.’ 

‘Does that make it easier?’ David asked. 

‘Yes,’ Nick answered immediately, nodding lightly. He looked at David and smiled, shuffling from the chair so he was kneeling on the floor in front of David and reaching up a hand to touch David's cheek. ‘You've done so much to help, but I don't want you as my therapist.’ 

When Nick kissed him it was nothing more than a single press of lips, followed by the lightest of touches to his face, and a look that seemed to convey there was more to all of it than simple physical affection; something greater and as yet undefined. David chased the thought, snatching for it as though it were the string of a runaway kite, always blown just out of reach. 

There was more, something Nick had not told him about Penrhyn, but it was not, as David had first feared, some great, catastrophic secret, too awful to be spoken. It was something precious, held back for fear of losing it; something connected with the way Nick looked at him, touched him, almost as though... 

The thought was broken by the loud, musical ring of the door bell, and David started with fright. 

‘The shopping!’ he exclaimed as Nick stood up and dashed down the hallway into the bedroom, emerging seconds later and tossing a t-shirt at David. 

‘Better put that on,’ Nick grinned, before ducking back out of sight. David pulled the t-shirt hurriedly over his head and straightened his hair, then he opened the front door. 

‘Delivery for a...’ The driver checked his hand-held terminal. ‘...Cameron. 'Cor blimey, it's you off the telly!’ 

Bustling past David, carrying the green basket of groceries, the man, who David guessed to be in his late thirties, said cheerily: ‘On holiday are ya?’ 

‘For a few days, yes,’ David replied, moving to help with the contents of the basket. The driver seemed not to hear and continued babbling rapidly in a thick west-country accent. 

‘Ain't a bad place, this. Would have took you for somewhere a bit fancier, but this is nice, eh?’ He placed several items of shopping on the kitchen table, carrying on a strange sort of one-sided conversation, oblivious to David's brief responses and wary expression. ‘Never been one for your lot m'self. The missus though, she took a liking to that Clegg fellow after those TV debates. Made her right happy when he turned up alive after all this time. Hell of a thing, that, just imagine spendin' all that time out there on your tod. Don't really bear thinkin' about.’ 

From the corner of his eye, David could see Nick lurking at the bedroom doorway, smirking in amusement. David rolled his eyes and gestured at the chattering delivery man, and Nick shrugged, holding his hands up as if to say: What am I supposed to do? 

For a moment, David had a vision of Nick strolling into the kitchen wearing nothing but boxers, and the thought of the probable look of shock on the delivery driver's face made laughter bubble up. He quickly coughed into his hand to hide it, frowning as Nick laughed silently and disappeared. 

David turned his attention away from the hallway and back to the now silent driver, who had emptied the basket and was holding his terminal out for David to sign. Quickly scrawling his signature, David led the man to the door and said a polite farewell, breathing a sigh of relief once the door was closed. 

‘Looks like you made a new friend,’ Nick chuckled, emerging from the bedroom. 

‘His wife prefers you,’ David replied, still feeling a little bewildered by the experience. 

‘So I heard.’ 

Nick walked over and slipped his arms around David's waist, pushing him back against the front door. 

‘Want some help putting everything away?’ 

‘Oh, now you offer to help,’ David said playfully. ‘Where were you when I was having my ear talked off?’ 

‘Your talkative friend probably wouldn't appreciate me walking around dressed like this,’ Nick answered, leaning back slightly to emphasise his lack of any clothing aside from David's boxer shorts. 

‘A sensible person would say you could have put on some clothes,’ David responded, smiling. 

‘Any _sensible_ person would have stayed right where I did,’ Nick laughed. ‘If I'd come out here he might have invited his wife round for tea.’ 

Shaking his head in resignation David stopped talking and put his arms around Nick's shoulders, and Nick fell silent too, nuzzling his face into the side of David's neck and breathing softly in David's ear. David was glad Nick seemed to have stopped worrying if his cautious advances were welcome, though he wished Nick had chosen a better location than in front of the door to decide that he wanted a cuddle. At least there was no window. 

After a while, Nick sighed. ‘I suppose I should make good on my offer of help.’ 

He made to step away, but David stopped him, suddenly reluctant for their quiet moment to end. 

‘It's cold by this door,’ Nick grumbled, but stood where he was until David let him go, before moving off and beginning to put the groceries away. 

When they were finished Nick trotted off toward the bedroom to get dressed, and David walked to the patio doors and looked out. 

The weather had improved since the previous day, with glimmers of sunlight shining down on the sea. David wondered if Nick would go swimming again. 

It was odd Nick was so susceptible to the cold and yet had no qualms about stripping off to swim in what must be near freezing water. Perhaps swimming was another thing Nick had grown accustomed to doing while on Penrhyn, comforting for the familiarity of it, enough so that the temperature of the water was not a problem. Perhaps he simply did not notice. It did not matter, David decided. He unlatched the door and opened it a fraction. 

The air was crisp, with the familiar salty twang of the coast, and David let out a long breath, feeling relaxed. This was the first real time away from the responsibilities of office he had been able to find since September the previous year. A few days grabbed here and there were all well and good to keep his stress levels low, but a real holiday, without something or other meaning he had to cut it short, was a rare pleasure. 

Although, David thought, this was not really a holiday at all. If Nick had not been there, if he had not been rescued, David would likely have spent the recess in Downing Street as he did most others. David wondered why he was viewing the trip to Devon as some kind of romantic getaway; it certainly was not meant to be. 

Before David could consider the question too deeply, Nick returned from the bedroom, chatting casually about how they might spend the day as he joined David in front of the patio doors. David turned away from the window and its view of the coast. 

‘We could have lunch on the beach?’ he suggested. 

‘Looks nice enough outside,’ Nick said, craning his head through the gap between the door and the edge of the frame, so his voice was slightly muffled. ‘I hope it doesn't rain today.’ 

‘Doesn't look like it will,’ David commented. He found it suddenly amusing they were talking about the weather, the age-old fall back of stilted conversation, as if they had nothing else to talk about, and laughed quietly as Nick ducked his head back inside the house. 

‘What?’ Nick asked, giving David a confused smile. 

‘Oh, nothing,’ David said. ‘Just thinking about the weather.’ 

Nick squinted at him funnily, one eyebrow curling drastically downward, and then shook his head, smiling again. 

‘You are strange sometimes, David.’ 

‘This coming from the man who likes to sleep on the floor,’ David responded, then bit his lip, hoping he had not hurt Nick's feelings with the remark. 

‘The floor is comfortable, I'll have you know,’ Nick grinned. ‘You should try it some time. Might toughen you up a little.’ 

‘I think I'm quite tough enough, thank you,’ David laughed. He gave Nick a playful shove, which only made Nick chuckle. 

‘Face it, you're a massive softy,’ Nick taunted. ‘Not that I mind. You're really comfortable to sleep on.’ 

‘Is that all I am to you?’ David asked, putting one hand on his chest in a gesture of mock heartbreak. ‘Nothing but a glorified pillow?’ 

‘A very lovely, very kind...’ 

Trailing off, Nick looked down at the floor, shuffling from one foot to the other. David wondered what Nick had been about to say, and he put his hand on Nick's arm. 

‘You know you're more than someone to–’ Nick mumbled. ‘I mean I wouldn't crawl into anyone's bed.’ 

‘I know,’ David frowned, feeling a little unsettled by Nick's abrupt change of mood. 

‘I just want you to know this–’ Nick waved his hand at the space between where they were standing. ‘–isn't simply because you're here.’ 

‘I wasn't suggesting you–’ 

‘Because it means something to me, David. It isn't because I'm lonely.’ 

‘I know that, Nick,’ David said. He found it vaguely troubling that Nick had used the word lonely in the present tense, as if it was something he still felt. Did he? David was not sure. Nick's outward display of mood seemed to be divided into two categories: sometimes he was boisterously happy, and others, like now, he was shockingly nervous and uncertain. 

‘I'm sorry,’ Nick sighed, rubbing his face in a way that made David wonder if he was crying. ‘I think I–I think I'd like to be alone for a little while. I wouldn't be very good company.’ 

‘If that's what–’ David began. Nick nodded fervently, his head still bowed, and rushed away.

  


As he stood alone by the door David wondered what had just happened. The last part of their conversation had him completely baffled. Had he somehow given Nick the impression that he thought Nick was only sleeping with him because it was convenient? Because he had certainly never intended to imply anything of the kind. Even if the stories about Nick's bed hopping during his youth were true, which David doubted very much, David knew him well enough to know he would not 'crawl into anyone's bed', as he had put it. 

Maybe Nick had wanted David to know that their sleeping arrangements were not out of convenience and meant something. David had never doubted it. They meant something to him, too, he just was not sure what they meant yet. It was difficult enough to adjust to Nick being alive, without the added confusion of how he felt about the man. 

Still, David felt unexpectedly touched at Nick's wanting to reassure him that... 

‘Bloody hell,’ David said out loud to the empty room. 

Yes, it was as simple as that, but he had it the wrong way round. What Nick had wanted, and what David had failed to provide, was reassurance it meant something to _David_ , too. 

Feeling frustrated with himself, David tried to decide whether he should go and knock on Nick's door or leave the other man to himself for a bit. Nick had asked to be alone, but perhaps this was one of those situations where it was better to straighten things out sooner rather than later. Although David did not have the slightest idea what he would say when he was not sure of his own feelings. 

His feet had carried him down the hallway, and he stood in front of Nick's door contemplating the least confusing way to tell Nick he was not entirely sure of all this. He stopped short of actually knocking when he heard Nick speaking on the other side of the door. 

‘You're the one who suggested it. I never wanted to– ’ 

There was a pause as Nick listened to the response, and then: 

‘I know that, but it's not exactly easy, Arthur.’ 

David lowered his hand, not wanting to disturb Nick when he was talking to Dr. Rimbaugh. His face creased with worry as he speculated on who had called whom, with the uncomfortable feeling the call was a result of the conversation he and Nick had just shared in the living room. 

‘It's not his fault,’ Nick was saying. ‘I'm the one who gets upset over the smallest...’ 

Not wanting to hear any more, David walked away.

  


It was twenty minutes later when Nick returned from the bedroom, approaching David cautiously as he tended to the soup he was heating. 

‘David,’ Nick began, smiling hesitantly. ‘I wanted to apologise for rushing off like that.’ 

‘It's all right,’ David said, balancing the wooden spoon he was using on the edge of the saucepan and turning to face Nick. ‘Are you feeling better?’ 

‘Yes, thank you,’ Nick answered, nodding. He glanced around the room a few times and then looked back at David. ‘It's nothing you– I mean, I wasn't upset with you, David. Things are just... confusing, sometimes, and it's difficult to explain. Little, little things sometimes remind me of ho– Arthur says it's normal, but it can get a bit frustrating when–’ 

‘Nick,’ David said softly, interrupting the continuing stream of words. ‘Slow down.’ 

‘Sorry,’ Nick mumbled, an apologetic look flashing across his features. ‘I wanted to explain before it all gets muddled again.’ 

‘Explain what?’ David asked, turning off the hob so he could give Nick his full attention without worrying about the soup burning. 

‘Why I, why sometimes I–’ Nick gulped and took a deep breath, his hands clenching at his sides. ‘It reminded me of my house,’ he said finally. 

‘Sorry, what?’ David uttered in surprise. 

‘My house,’ Nick repeated. 

‘I didn't realise you had one,’ David breathed. It had never occurred to him there would be buildings on Penrhyn. 

‘I think it used to be a holiday home, from when people still lived there,’ Nick explained. His expression was halfway toward wistful as he spoke. ‘It wasn't very much, but the old hotels seemed too big for just me. They were all falling down anyway.’ 

David stood in silence. In all the times he had thought of it, he had pictured Nick living in some insubstantial shelter fashioned out of fallen trees and driftwood, like he had seen depicted in films. The thought that Nick had left behind a house made him feel unexpectedly sad; somehow it cemented the idea in David's mind that Nick had not merely survived on the island for five years, he had made a home there. A home he was now separate from, and also missed more than a little. 

‘I'm sorry,’ David said, feeling his words were clumsy and insufficient. 

‘It's not your fault,’ Nick responded quietly, reminding David of how Nick had said the very same thing to Dr. Rimbaugh. ‘I don't want you to feel like you can't say things because it might remind me of something else.’ 

‘I don't. Well, perhaps a little,’ David admitted. 

‘You shouldn't,’ Nick said. He smiled at David and took hold of his hand. ‘If you stopped saying every word that reminds me of Penrhyn we would have very short conversations.’ 

Smiling back at Nick, David squeezed his hand. He felt better for knowing he had not upset Nick intentionally, but the conversation about the house Nick had lived in felt unfinished, and David still had no idea what it had to do with Nick's insistence he was not sharing a bed with David through loneliness. 

Nick seemed to read David's confusion because a few seconds later David found himself being led toward the sofa. He sat down, watching as Nick settled at his side and turned to look at him with a determined look set firmly on his face. 

‘It's not really the house,’ Nick said. ‘Certain things– They remind me of– Arthur says it is because, he says some emotional responses trigger the memory and–’ Nick stopped, squeezing his eyes shut and touching his forehead. ‘I just don't know why it is _that_ memory. It's not even that bad, so I don't know why I keep thinking about it.’ 

‘I don't understand, Nick,’ David said in confusion. ‘What do you keep thinking about?’ 

‘The accident,’ Nick replied, gesturing to the spot on his chest where the lightened scar line was hidden beneath his shirt. ‘The day I got this.’ 

‘Oh.’ 

David felt lost, unable to grasp the jumping thread of Nick's thoughts and how the scar on his chest could possibly have anything to do with them sleeping together. Nick's earlier sentiment of wanting to explain before it all got tangled again made a lot more sense, but it seemed Nick was not having much success in untangling whatever it was he wanted to say. 

‘I fell,’ Nick explained quietly. ‘There was a storm. I was over on the other side of the island when it started, and I had to walk back to the house in the rain. I slipped when I was crossing one of the inlets and fell onto a strip of metal stuck in the bank.’ 

The unwelcome image of Nick staggering along in the rain, hand pressed to his chest as blood trickled from beneath it, made David inhale sharply. Nick looked at him. 

‘It didn't even hurt, not really,’ Nick went on. ‘I was more more worried about getting out of the rain. When I got back to the house I used the last of my shirt to bandage it. I was terrified it would get infected; I suppose I'm lucky it didn't. It's just–’ Nick broke off, looking down at his hands. His voice was shaky as he finished the sentence. ‘–that's when I realised I was going to die there. On my own. And no one would even know it.’ 

_Oh god_ , David thought, understanding Nick was describing the very moment when he had lost all hope of being rescued. His hands shaking, David reached out for Nick, wanting to reassure himself of Nick's presence as much as he wanted to reassure Nick that he would not die alone in some faraway place. Nick turned to him and buried himself in the embrace, arms wrapping tightly around David's upper body. 

‘I've got you,’ David said instinctively. ‘I'm here.’ 

‘All I kept thinking was how I'd never get to tell– talk to you about, about us kissing each other, and how much I wish I'd stayed after that aide dropped off those papers, instead of leaving everything up in the air because of some stupid, stupid idea I was betraying my party by liking you.’ 

‘You couldn't have known,’ David whispered fiercely, tightening his grip on Nick. 

‘You have no idea how many times I thought about this,’ Nick answered, his voice rough with emotion. ‘About you holding me like this; how much I fucking _wanted_ – so damn hard it hurt to even _think_ about you. Some days the thought of seeing you was the only, the only thing that kept me going. Christ, you don't know how much I missed you.’ 

Holding Nick tightly, David stroked his hand up and down Nick's back while Nick clung to him. He felt like crying, could feel tears prickling behind his eyes at the thought of how desperately lonely Nick had been. 

However much of a struggle David was finding it to deal with their situation, what Nick was going through must be made doubly difficult by the surfacing memories of what he had been through, amplified by feelings he had undoubtedly suppressed because they caused him too much pain. 

It was as though Nick's return, and their growing relationship with each other, had opened a door somewhere that Nick had kept firmly closed, allowing all of the emotions he felt to spill out in a jumbled heap. For the first time David was glad Nick had someone like Doctor Rimbaugh to talk to; Nick was right, there was no way David could help him to understand what all of it meant. 

But knowing Nick had thought of him so often, had thought of being held as he was right now, David wrapped Nick a little tighter in his arms, and he did not let go.


	10. Chapter 10

# Chapter Ten

  


‘Ow!’ David yelped, hopping away from the table. He slumped down on the sofa, leaning over to examine his foot and wrapping his hand around the toe he had just stubbed on the table leg as it began to sting painfully. 

_Damn it_ , he thought. 

This was the third time today he had injured himself, having already cut himself while shaving and burned his hand on a saucepan while cooking breakfast, and while he kept telling himself he was simply having a bad day, the real reason for his clumsiness was because he was hopelessly distracted. 

The reason for _that_ was something he was trying desperately not to think about. 

Ignoring the throbbing pain in his toe, David walked over to the patio doors and looked out. Nick was still swimming, his arms slicing neatly through the water as he made his way back and forth across the bay. He had been swimming for about an hour, and just watching him made David feel tired – not that the sleepless night was helping him feel any less so. 

_‘I promised myself if I ever got the chance I would tell you something.’_

Why did he have to wake up right then? Just as Nick had started whispering in the dark next to him? If he had stayed asleep then he could have spent today in blissful ignorance instead of kicking tables and burning himself because he could not keep his mind off of what Nick had said. He would not have spent all morning watching Nick smiling at him and wondering how Nick could smile at him, could even smile at all, when... 

_Stop thinking about it_ , David told himself crossly. _If he doesn't want to tell you when you're awake._

But David was unable to stop. The words kept running through his mind over and over, repeating themselves in an endless loop, no matter what David did to try to forget them. 

_‘When you have nothing you need something to hold on to. I had you.’_

David closed his eyes, thinking of how small Nick had sounded when he said those words, how Nick's hand had felt as it stroked lightly across his face; slightly cold, infinitely tender. 

_‘You were the thing I dreamed about, my one perfect moment, the one thing I never let go of. You have no idea what you mean to me, or how much I wish–’_

Even before Nick had abruptly stopped speaking David had understood what Nick meant, what he wished for. There had been no need to guess, even though Nick had not spoken the words; he wanted to stay with David. In that moment, as he pretended he was still sleeping, David had wished he could give Nick what he wanted, as impossible as it was. 

_‘Even if I know it has to end, even if this is all I'll ever have, I got to have my dream, and I'll never regret it.’_

At that point David had turned over. Nick had stopped talking, and David had started to drift back to sleep, thinking Nick was finished. Now, David watched Nick swim and told himself the last four words had been something he dreamed. Nick had not really said them; did not really mean them. He knew it was a lie, and it did not stop them sounding in his head along with the rest. 

_‘I love you, David.’_

Stepping outside, David made his way to the railing and leaned against it as he called Nick's name. Nick stopped swimming, his head poking out of the water above the low swells of the waves. Even from where he was standing David could see Nick smiling. 

‘Lunch is ready,’ David shouted down. 

‘Be right there,’ Nick yelled back, making his way to the beach and grabbing the towel he had left lying on the sand. He started to towel himself dry as he walked toward the steps. David went back into the house. 

What on earth was he supposed to do now? Nick deciding to take a swim had been one of the more fortuitous things to happen today, it meant David could be alone with his thoughts. 

Ever since he had felt Nick curl against his side and mumble a sleepy good morning he had been struggling to know how to act. How could he behave like everything was normal? Pretend he had not heard Nick's whispered secret and now knew something he was not at all sure he wanted to know? He had known Nick had feelings for him, that much was obvious right from the beginning, but David had never once considered it might be anything like... love. 

Even as Nick was saying the words David had felt everything click into place. It all made sense, suddenly: the way Nick looked at him, the things Nick had been saying, the sometimes insecurity and the clingy yet distant attitude. 

Nick had spent years thinking about seeing him again, had apparently spent years dreaming about it, too. It bothered David that Nick felt he had to admit his feelings in a dark room when he thought David was asleep, and thus could not hear him, as though he had some daft liberal idea that he was still keeping the promise he had made to himself even if David never knew. 

It seemed, to David, that Nick thought so little of himself he was willing to accept what little he could have and feel grateful for even that, and after spending years wanting the very thing he now had he still accepted it would end as a matter of fact. 

_I should never have come here_ , David thought, and felt immediately guilty for wanting to deprive Nick of his happiness, small and fleeting as it was, but he could not help it. If David had known how Nick felt he doubted he would even have stayed at Chequers. It felt horribly, monumentally cruel to give Nick something he had desperately wished for only to snatch it away, because that was exactly what was going to happen on Monday. David would leave, had to leave, and Nick would be alone all over again. It would not be the same as being on Penrhyn, but in some ways David thought it would be worse. 

‘What's for lunch?’ Nick asked. He walked over to where David was standing and casually kissed him on the cheek. ‘I'm starving.’ 

‘Cheese and pickle sandwiches,’ David replied, then, feeling like he should attempt some sort of normal conversation, ‘Have a nice swim?’ 

‘Mmm, yes,’ Nick said, brushing his lips over David's neck. David closed his eyes and hoped Nick thought the reaction was because of what he was doing rather than the fact David felt horribly uncomfortable all of a sudden. A few seconds later Nick pulled away. ‘Is– Are you all right?’ 

‘Yes, yes,’ David replied. He smiled and handed Nick his lunch. 

‘You sure?’ Nick asked, putting the plate with the untouched sandwich back on the kitchen counter. ‘You've been a bit... off... since this morning.’ 

‘Just a bit clumsy today, that's all. I stubbed my toe on the table before you came in and–’ 

‘It's because of last night, isn't it?’ Nick interrupted. David felt startled until he realised Nick was talking about what had happened _before_ he had fallen asleep. That memory would have been a much more pleasant one to have stuck in his head all day. ‘If– If you didn't want me–’ 

‘What? Nick, no,’ David exclaimed as he watched Nick's face begin to fall. He sighed, pulling an increasingly upset-looking Nick to him. 

‘It's not that, not at all,’ he insisted, thinking: _Damn it, David, isn't it bad enough you're going to leave on Monday? Do you have to ruin everything for him as well?_

‘What am I supposed to think?’ Nick said, standing stiffly in David's arms. ‘You practically flinch every time I come near you.’ 

‘I'm sorry, I've been a bit–’ David stopped for a moment; should he lie or tell Nick the truth? ‘I heard what you said last night. I was awake’ 

‘H–how m-much of it?’ Nick stammered, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip. He tensed further in David's hold, and David let him go. 

‘All of it, I think.’ David stepped back as Nick put his hand to his face. 

‘Look, I can understand why you are freaked out, can we just forget–’ 

‘No we damn well can't forget it,’ David interrupted hotly. ‘You might be able to pretend nothing is wrong here, but I can't.’ 

‘What exactly is wrong with it?’ Nick frowned, confusion writ large across his face as he lowered his hand and stared at David. 

‘What?’ David asked, stunned that Nick did not know what he meant. ‘Don't you think it's a bit strange? To, to– accept this so easily.’ 

‘Yes, David,’ Nick said coolly. ‘I wanted a few days of happiness after five years of–of– What normal person would want that?’ 

Across the room, David's phone began to ring, dancing across the coffee table. David stared at it, wondering who was calling and if he should answer it, until it stopped. Whoever was calling had been put through to voicemail. 

‘It doesn't matter really,’ Nick said when David turned back to him. ‘This isn't about me, is it.’ 

‘What do you mean?’ David questioned. 

‘This is about you,’ Nick answered. ‘It's about you needing a way to deny you feel anything, or even want me at all. It's just another excuse for you to keep yourself closed off.’ 

‘That's not true,’ David snapped. 

‘It is, and what's more you damn well know it,’ Nick answered angrily. ‘You're just too bloody pig-headed to admit it.’ David's phone started to ring again, and he looked at it longingly, wanting a way to escape what Nick was saying. Nick stalked over to it and picked it up, thrusting it roughly in to David's hands. ‘Answer it, David. I think we're done shouting at each other.’ 

With that, Nick strode down the hall and into his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind himself. David answered the phone. 

‘David,’ George said on the other end. ‘You'll have to come back early.’ 

‘Good afternoon to you too, George,’ David replied wearily. 

‘Sorry,’ George mumbled. ‘But you do have to come back. Someone forgot to put a meeting into your diary and you're needed here with me on Monday.’ 

‘Is there no way–’ 

‘If there was do you think I would be calling?’ George cut in. 

‘No, I suppose not,’ David sighed. He sat down at the dining table and drummed his fingers on the wooden surface. As if today was not bad enough, now he had to tell Nick he was leaving early. David doubted Nick would believe it was not his choice, considering the argument and David's discomfort at Nick's feelings toward him. 

‘Everything all right there?’ George asked. ‘You sound a bit upset.’ 

‘I think I've made a pig's ear of everything, George’ David confided quietly. 

‘With Nick?’ 

‘Yes with Nick, who else would I be talking about?’ 

‘I told you it was a bad idea to let him get too close to you,’ George said matter of factly. ‘One day you'll learn to listen to me.’ 

‘Thanks for the sympathetic ear,’ David replied. 

‘Sorry,’ George said again. ‘What did he say that upset you so badly?’ 

‘That he loves me,’ David said quietly. 

‘Oh,’ George gasped. David heard the sound of papers being shuffled and George mumbling to someone under his breath. 

‘Sorry, Danny wanted something,’ George said a few seconds later. ‘Is that all he said?’ 

‘Isn't that enough?’ David asked incredulously. He sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair to the nape of his neck. 

‘I don't understand why you're surprised,’ George replied lightly. ‘Or upset, to tell the truth.’ 

‘You don't think it's strange?’ 

‘Not really,’ George answered. ‘It's probably left over feelings from, well you know, from whatever was going on between the two of you before he, uh, went to Rio. You did kiss each other.’ 

‘Who told you that?’ David gasped, fidgeting in his seat. 

‘You did,’ George said, sounding confused. ‘In your office after the funeral. Although you'd had a bit to drink that day so maybe you don't remember. The point is, David, you had all of those things to help you get over however it was you felt back then, Nick didn't. He needs some time to catch up, that's all.’ 

‘Maybe you're right,’ David sighed, though he did not believe it. 

‘Of course I am,’ George replied, his voice smooth and assured. ‘So, I'll see you this evening, we have some–’ 

‘Tomorrow, George,’ David interrupted hastily. He did not want to leave before he got the chance to talk to Nick. 

‘It's only two o'clock,’ George said. ‘You could be back here by nine and we–’ 

‘Tomorrow,’ David repeated sternly. 

‘All right, tomorrow.’ 

David hung up, muttering a swift goodbye and putting his phone on the dining table. He leaned forward on his elbows and ran his hands over his face, feeling tired and confused. 

What George had said made sense, but in his heart David knew it was not true, least of all the part about having got over his feelings for Nick; he just was not sure what those feelings were or what they meant. 

Sitting at the table with the backs of his fingers pressed against his eye sockets, David wondered why it was that the men in his life said the same thing about him; that he was closed off. Had he always so rigidly avoided intimacy? 

He thought back over his admittedly few relationships, from the casual dalliances of his youth to the more mature but still inconsequential affairs after his career had begun to take off. It had never bothered him that he had not settled down. He merely thought he had not met the right person, someone who he would want to settle down with, and with the pressures of his job, especially after he had become leader of the Conservative party and later prime minister, finding a partner to share his life simply did not seem that important. 

Did that mean he had closed himself off? He did not think so, but perhaps there was something to it since both Andrew and Nick had expressed the same view. Andrew had said it in resignation, the tone of his voice quietly accepting, before he left; Nick in anger and frustration. And when Nick said it, it had hurt. Not because David thought it true, although he was beginning to consider the possibility, but because he did not _want_ it to be true, not with Nick, and if he could only unravel his thoughts and clear the confusion cluttering up his head then he would have... well he would have done something other than allow Nick to think he did not care at all, if that _was_ what Nick thought. 

Sighing wearily, David looked toward the counter where his and Nick's lunches were waiting to be eaten. He did not feel hungry any more but that did not mean Nick was not. He got to his feet and picked up Nick's plate, holding it out in front of himself as he went to Nick's door and knocked gently. 

‘Nick?’ David called uncertainly. ‘Would you like your lunch?’ 

‘I'll eat it later, David,’ Nick replied just as David began to reach for the handle to open the door. 

‘All right,’ David said. ‘I'll leave it in the fridge then?’ 

Taking the silence he received to mean agreement, David walked back to the kitchen, stacked the plate on the emptiest shelf of the fridge and closed the door, then he collected his own and did the same, not wanting it to go to waste, even if he was not hungry at the moment. He went outside and sat on the steps that lead down to the lawned section of the garden, watching the sea rippling below and unexpectedly craving a cigarette. 

_Great_ , David thought sarcastically, reminded of the stress and worry that had caused him to take up smoking again in the first place; a particularly difficult few months during 2013 when the economy looked set to slide into recession again despite all efforts against it, and when even he had started to question the wisdom of their strategy to deal with the deficit. 

He got up swiftly, determined not to slip back into bad habits, and trotted down the steps to the beach, taking off his shoes and walking in the shallows. The water was cold enough to take his mind off of his craving, but not enough that it stopped him worrying about what he was going to say to Nick. 

How was he going to explain he was so completely thrown by everything that had happened since last week? Admit to Nick that he did feel something for him, and he did not want to leave but had no choice? He stood still, feeling the water licking around his ankles and watching the seagulls flying overhead. 

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

  


It was nearing five o'clock when David went back to the house, huffing his way barefoot up the steps and drying both feet and ankles with a towel before putting on fresh socks. He left his shoes off and went to the fridge to retrieve his lunch, noticing Nick's sandwich was no longer where he had placed it. 

As he ate his nearly unpalatable sandwich in silence, David wondered if Nick would come out of the bedroom at all that evening to spend time with him, or if Nick thought David did not want his company any more. He did not want to spend what would be his last night with Nick with both of them sitting in separate rooms or even, David admitted with reluctance, sleeping in separate rooms, though the latter thought troubled him and left him wondering why he felt quite so upset by the prospect of going to sleep and waking up alone. 

After finishing his meal and washing the plate he had used, David tiptoed along the hallway and listened outside of Nick's door for some sign the other man was awake, but he could hear nothing from inside the room that indicated one way or another. Nick did sleep a lot because of his medication, perhaps he did not want to be disturbed. 

It was only when David realised he was gnawing on his bottom lip so much that it was beginning to hurt, a welt forming and stinging viciously, that he quietly opened the door and poked his head inside. 

The room was dark, curtains drawn against the already fading light outside, and Nick was asleep, hugging a pillow close against his chest with his legs curled up. He was frowning slightly, even in sleep, and his mouth was set in an unhappy line. 

As he walked toward the bed, David thought he had never seen someone of Nick's height look so small, so vulnerable. He sat down and stroked Nick's arm. Nick stirred and opened his eyes, looking at David silently. 

‘I'm sorry,’ David said quietly, unsure whether he was apologising for his part in their argument or for his earlier than anticipated departure. ‘I– It did freak me out. I'm not sure how I feel about all of this.’ 

‘I never expected you to feel the same,’ Nick whispered sadly. ‘I knew you wouldn't, that's why I never said anything.’ 

‘I don't understand how you can settle for this,’ David admitted. 

‘Because it made me happy, David. After everything–’ Nick exhaled heavily and closed his eyes again. ‘Is that so wrong?’ 

‘No,’ David replied, shaking his head as he spoke. 

It sounded like the sanest thing in the world; such a heartbreakingly simple thing to want. With all the confusions and complications of his life David had forgotten things were not the same for Nick as they were for him. What Nick had been through had changed him, changed the way he looked at the world and what he valued. Nick did not worry about what other people might think of their relationship; it made him happy and that was all that mattered. 

David wished it could be as simple as that for him, too, even though he knew it could not. 

‘I have to leave in the morning,’ David said regretfully. Nick nodded, but did not look at him. ‘Would you like to go back to Chequers?’ 

‘No,’ Nick replied. ‘I'd like to stay here, if that's okay?’ 

‘The house is paid up until Wednesday. I can make it longer if you–’ 

‘Wednesday's fine. I have an appointment with Arthur on Thursday anyway,’ Nick broke in. His voice sounded less upset now, but it was still pensive as he asked, ‘Will you stay with me tonight? To sleep, not– I just, I'd like a hug that's all.’ 

‘Of course I'll stay,’ David answered. He lay down and gathered Nick into his arms, stroking gently at Nick's hair as Nick let out a few deep, shaky breaths and wrapped his limbs about David's body, pulling David as close as he could. 

‘I don't think I thought this through too well,’ Nick mumbled into the crook of David's neck. ‘I knew you would leave, but it still hurts.’ 

‘Will you be all right?’ David asked, not ready to admit he was hurting too, for different reasons but just as much. 

‘Yes,’ Nick breathed after a moment's hesitation. He laughed once, short and low. ‘I think a few days to myself will help.’ 

Holding Nick a little closer, David laughed too. He felt Nick smile against his cheek, the movement swift against his skin before it faded. 

‘I wish I could make you happy,’ David whispered, because it was true; more than anything he wanted for Nick to be happy, and if circumstances were different he would have stayed as long as Nick wanted him to. 

‘You have,’ Nick whispered back. 

They talked softly for a while but then fell silent, holding each other as though the world were coming to an end, which in a way it was. 

The world where he could hold Nick like this would cease to exist come morning, and David felt a bitter stab of anguish thinking back on Nick's whispered confession the previous night. He felt tears welling in his eyes; he did not want to lose this, did not want to let it go, and even as Nick's hand found his own and held tight, David could find only sorrow in the knowledge that this was their goodbye. He looked at Nick, _saw_ Nick, saw the simpleness of the world he had woven for himself on Penrhyn, where his only concern was to stay alive and hold on to that dream; the moment Nick thought he would never have. 

Their moment. This moment. 

‘David,’ Nick whispered suddenly, his voice cracking. ‘Hold me, David.’ 

‘I'm here,’ David answered. ‘I've got you. I've got you.’ Nick sobbed in response, and David saw his eyes were glossy with unshed tears, already mourning a loss that had not yet come, but would soon. Too soon for both of them. 

Nick clutched at him, his hand wrapping around David's so tight it hurt, and David bit back a sob of purest grief. It was like watching Nick's heart break before his eyes, made all the worse for knowing it _was_ Nick's heart and this had not been because of the remnants of residual feelings that needed a last, quick airing before being packed away. Suddenly David understood why Nick had made the choice he had, why he had kept his feelings hidden. 

Despite the fact he was not yet ready to live in it, Nick had not lost sight of the real world for a second; he had always known how this would end, and had accepted the ending as payment for the chance to have this at all. 

It was a trade Nick had made without hesitation. Sacrificing his heart to have four short days with David, knowing he would have nothing at the end of it. David did not know if he would do the same, or could do the same, but he knew that for Nick there had never been any question; he would have given all of himself and more to touch his dream, even for the briefest time. 

With that thought in his mind, David kissed Nick, whispered his name and held him, _loved_ him, and found his own perfect moment in Nick's arms.


	11. Chapter 11

# Chapter Eleven

  


Westminster was all the duller on David's return, monotonous to the extreme and full of emptiness, and worry. David found himself constantly wondering if Nick was all right on his own; twisting his phone in his hands and trying to decide whether to call or not. He wanted to call, to hear Nick's voice, but was not sure if it would be welcome since Nick had not made contact, not even by text, since David left three days ago. 

It had never occurred to David beforehand that he might miss Nick, but he did. He missed waking up next to him and listening to his sleepy groaning. 

The first morning he had been back David had stretched out his hand expecting to find Nick next to him, and had sat up startled when he realised Nick was not there, looking around frantically until he remembered Nick was still in Devon. The second morning David had lain in bed on the brink of tears, clutching his phone and willing Nick to call him, or for the courage to call Nick. 

Odd though it was, David felt a profound sense of loneliness. It was as though a piece of his life was suddenly not there any more, and David was confused why the four days he had spent with Nick now amounted to something other than it had been. 

Something about his line of thought unsettled David and he pushed it quickly out of mind, looking at the the clock and then his diary. It was nearly six o'clock. 

David was due to make a last-minute appearance at a charity event at seven and needed to get changed before he left. He did not intend to stay long and had only agreed to attend because it was preferable to spending the night alone in the flat above number ten, even though it would have meant he could watch the new episode of _Moyen's Game_ today instead of Sunday. David felt sure that doing so would only have reminded him of the way he and Nick had curled up together to watch it in Devon, and everything that had happened since.

  


When David reached the Norton Rose building, he stepped out of the car and was greeted by Richard Desmond, who shook his hand and directed him inside to where the other guests were having drinks in one of the reception lounges. 

David entered the tall glass building with his security team a few steps behind him, and made polite conversation with a few of the other attendees until he spotted Simon standing by one of the flower arrangements, listening attentively to an attractive blonde while his hand lingered on her forearm. 

On seeing David, Simon said a few words to his companion and walked over. 

‘Simon,’ David greeted him as soon as he was in earshot. ‘I didn't know you would be here.’ 

‘Last minute thing, rather like you, I imagine,’ Simon replied, smiling. ‘How are you? We haven't had a chance to talk since you got back.’ 

‘Fine. Fine,’ David nodded. ‘How– How is Nick? Did he get back to London all right?’ 

‘Didn't you hear?’ Simon asked with a frown. David shook his head. ‘Oh,’ Simon went on. ‘Nick isn't back in London yet. He went to Oxford to meet with his doctor. He's staying there until Monday.’ 

‘Right,’ David mumbled, worried again. ‘He's all right, isn't he?’ 

‘Haven't you spoken to him?’ 

‘Not since Sunday,’ David admitted, closing his eyes as he thought of the quiet goodbye and the sad look on Nick's face. ‘I didn't want to make things more difficult for him.’ 

‘I'm sure you wouldn't be,’ Simon smiled sympathetically. He patted David on the arm affectionately. ‘Why don't you call him? I'm certain he'd like to hear from you.’ 

David mumbled something non-committally before they were interrupted by Richard, who wanted to introduce them both to one of the charity patrons, a portly gentleman in his fifties who gushed unashamedly about how pleased he was that David and Simon could attend. David smiled politely for as long as he could before excusing himself and leaving to talk to an old acquaintance he noticed arriving. 

Later that night, after David had left the reception and arrived back at Downing Street, he climbed the steps to the flat and went straight to the bedroom. 

It was too late to call Nick now, he decided as he lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling. He would call tomorrow. 

_Christ, I miss him_ , David thought unhappily as he drifted off to sleep.

  


When David turned to page six of The Telegraph on Thursday morning he was confronted by the headline: _Clegg's Mysterious Coffee Companion_ , along with a small, slightly blurry picture, obviously taken on a mobile phone, of Nick and a smart-looking man of around Nick's age sitting in the corner of a coffee shop drinking tea. The man was touching Nick on the arm and Nick's gaze was downcast, his face sad. 

David felt a flush of anger at the apparent familiarity of the unidentified man. He slammed the paper on the table and then, surprised at his reaction, stood up and paced the room. 

_It's Nick's doctor_ , David told himself, because surely it must have been. Nick had not seen or spoken to anyone but himself, Simon, a few aides, and doctor Rimbaugh since his return from Penrhyn, and Simon had mentioned that Nick was in Oxford to meet with his therapist. David wondered why Nick was spending so long there before returning to London. 

Sitting down again, David read through the short article accompanying the picture. According to the journalist, Nick had spent twenty minutes in the coffee shop before leaving. It also mentioned that Nick was staying in the Old Bank Hotel on Oxford High Street, and had been seen returning there at around seven-fifteen the previous evening – alone, David noted mentally, with relief he did not register. 

David looked again at the picture above the article, feeling a pang of hurt for the visible sadness of Nick's expression. Clearly the other man was attempting to comfort Nick, and David was gripped by a fierce longing to do the same, to hold Nick to him and keep holding until that unhappy look was replaced by a smile, no matter how long that took. He could not help but feel that the reason for it being there at all was due to him; it was almost identical to how Nick had looked when David had reluctantly kissed him goodbye and left to drive back to London. 

It was partly that thought which led David to pick up his phone and write a text message. 

_I see you're in the paper today._

He sent it to Nick, sipping his coffee and waiting anxiously for a reply. It came less than a minute later. 

_Alive and in the paper? Big day for me, isn't it._

_Alive?_ David sent back, beginning to smile to himself without noticing. 

_Papers came this morning for me to sign. Now I'm officially alive as opposed to just alive, not that there's much difference._

_That's good news._ David sent. He had forgotten the coroner's decision had not been reversed while they were in Devon. 

_Yes it is. I even got some money back, which means I don't have to borrow from Simon any more. How is London? Enjoying being back in the thick of things?_

Picking up his coffee mug, David walked through the flat to the living room and sat down on the sofa while he debated his reply. 

'London is terrible and I miss you' was his first thought, and he even got so far as to type the first three words before he changed his mind. 

_Is that how you paid for those scones?_ _You know how it is, rushing around and listening to the Labour front bench bluster on about nothing._

_Of course it is. Did you think I stole them? I remember what that was like. I don't miss it at all._

_Actually I thought you charmed them out of the bakery with your puppy dog eyes. How is Oxford?_

_Puppy dog eyes? Crowded. Arthur insists on dragging me about the place though. He says it's therapeutic._

_You know, that look you have that makes it impossible to say no to you. So that's how you ended up in the paper, then?_

David drained his coffee mug and stood up again, feeling restless. The way Nick was answering his messages straight away gave David the impression Nick was as eager to talk as he was, and he smiled widely as he deposited his empty cup in the sink and grabbed his jacket, intending to continue the conversation during his walk to Parliament, and for as long as possible after he got there. 

_I think that look only works on you, David. :) If it is then there will only be more of it. Which paper? So I can avoid it today._

_Telegraph, page six. But I haven't read the others yet so it could be in those, too._

_Hm, no denying the 'puppy dog eyes' work on you. I'll take that as a good sign. Damn, Arthur is here, I have to go. It was good to talk to you, and thanks for telling me about the paper!_

  


David spent the weekend making the final preparations for a statement he was due to give in the house on Tuesday afternoon, after Simon's question session was over, and swapping text messages with Nick, very regular text messages. He still had not worked up the courage to call Nick, but since Nick had shown no sign of wanting him to, David continued with the text conversation they were having, happy they were talking at all. 

On Monday morning he hopped out of bed and slung on his dressing gown, immediately taking up his phone. Nick would be back in London today and David was going to suggest they should see each other, perhaps have dinner together. He sent off a text saying just that as he waited for the kettle to boil. There was no answer. 

Not thinking anything of it – perhaps Nick was busy – David drank his coffee and read the morning papers before taking a shower and getting dressed. He checked his phone for a reply from Nick as he made his way downstairs and when there was still nothing, David began to feel a little uneasy, but dismissed the feeling as pure paranoia. Nick was not awake, or was out somewhere with Arthur, or even on his way back to London and somewhere with no signal. 

He made his way along Whitehall to Parliament and walked to George's office, knocking on the door and going inside. 

‘Morning, George,’ David greeted him cheerfully. 

‘Oh, good morning,’ George commented as David sat down. ‘I didn't expect to see you until later. Thought you'd be at the airport.’ 

‘The airport?’ David echoed questioningly. He flipped through his briefcase for the notes he had made the night before, frowning and wondering what George was talking about. ‘Why would I be?’ 

‘Isn't Nick's flight today?’ George asked, looking up from his own papers, which were spread out on the low table in the middle of the room. 

‘He didn't say anything to me about a holiday,’ David answered, slipping out of his suit jacket and leaving it on the arm of his chair. 

‘Oh,’ George exclaimed, his eyes widening. ‘I thought he would have told you.’ 

‘Told me what?’ 

‘That he's going back to Penrhyn,’ George said. ‘Danny said he called last night and asked–’ 

‘What do you mean he's going back to Penrhyn?’ David interrupted, jumping to his feet. 

‘That's what Danny told me earlier. He said Nick–’ 

David did not wait for George to finish. He grabbed his jacket and crossed the room, flinging the office door open. Then he stopped and turned back to George. 

‘What airport?!’ he demanded. 

‘Heathrow,’ George replied. ‘But David–’ 

‘What time is the plane?’ David cut in. George looked at him, brow furrowed. 

‘Ten-fifteen,’ he stated. 

It was five past nine. Heathrow was a forty minute drive, at least. It would be close but perhaps he could get there before Nick got on the plane. 

_Why didn't he tell me?_ David thought desperately as he rushed through the corridor, his heart racing and his mouth dry. Anguish welled in his chest and he realised he was close to tears, distraught at the thought of Nick leaving, of losing him. 

Thrusting his hand into his pocket, David grappled with his phone, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from people as he passed them. He fumbled with the earpiece, dropping it on the floor as he tried to fix it behind his ear, stumbling blindly ahead as he grabbed it up and shoved it roughly in place. 

‘Nick,’ he said into the phone, waiting impatiently as the voice recognition dialled. 

_The number you have dialled is currently unavailable, please leave a message._

Twice more David called, each time he was transferred straight to Nick's voicemail. 

‘Fuck,’ David cursed, leaving the building and heading back along Whitehall toward Downing Street at a brisk pace, his blood pounding so loudly in his ears he almost did not hear the footfalls of his security team rushing along behind him. Once through the gate he headed for his car, parked at the end of the street, and instructed the driver to take him to Heathrow. 

As he slid into the back and shut the door he threw his phone down on the seat next to him, leaving the earpiece behind his ear as he repeated Nick's name and waited to be connected. 

‘Nick,’ he said frantically after the beep. ‘Nick, I don't know if you will get this. I'm on my way to the airport. Please, Nick, don't leave. Don't get on the plane.’ 

Jabbing at the disconnect button as the car moved along Whitehall, David reached down and slotted the earpiece hastily back into its holder. 

‘Come on, come on,’ he mumbled anxiously at the lights around Parliament square, as each second they stayed red made him feel like he would not make it in time. 

The drive to Heathrow was agonising. David muttered and cursed under his breath each time they got stuck in traffic, and watched the clock on the interior display ticking closer and closer to ten-fifteen. It was five to ten by the time the car pulled up to the roundabout that led to the terminals, and the intercom fizzed to life. 

‘Which terminal, sir?’ the driver asked. 

Suddenly realising he had no idea which of the five Nick's flight was leaving from, David's heart sank. He quickly picked up his phone and rang George, cutting through the hurried questions about whether he was all right and asking, ‘What terminal is Nick's flight leaving from?’ 

‘I don't think you'll make it in time, David,’ George answered. 

‘Just tell me,’ David shouted, bristling with anger and worry. 

‘Four, terminal four,’ George sighed. ‘KLM flight 1028 to Amsterdam.’ 

David hung up without another word and pressed the intercom button. 

‘Terminal four,’ he told the driver, flopping back in his seat as the car began to move again. He looked at the clock; one minute to ten. 

_I'm not going to make it_ , he thought. _I hope he got my message._

Rushing straight from the car when it pulled up to the entrance, David ran into the terminal and up to the information desk. 

‘Amsterdam, flight 1028,’ he wheezed at the male attendant, leaning against the counter as he tried to slow his breathing. 

‘Too late for that one,’ the attendant answered, beginning to click at a keyboard. ‘Next flight to Amsterdam is–’ 

‘Gate, what gate?’ David interrupted. 

‘No gate, it's ready for take off.’ 

‘No,’ David sobbed, turning away as tears started to sting his eyes. He walked through the terminal to the large windows that faced the runway and looked out at the taxiing planes, spotting the distinctive blue and white design of a KLM Airbus disappearing out of sight behind the far end of the terminal building. 

David looked at the departure board, at the listing for Nick's flight and the words 'gate closed' in capital letters next to the flight number. It blinked as the screen updated a few minutes later, and _AIRBORNE 10:16_ appeared. 

Leaving the window, David walked slowly back to the car, saying nothing more to the driver than ‘Downing Street’ as the man held the door open for him. In the privacy of the back of the car, David sat numbly, leaning forward and staring at the floor. 

Nick had said he wanted to go back to Penrhyn, that he missed it and wished sometimes he had stayed, but David had not thought he was speaking with any real intention to actually _go back_. 

Yes, Nick was having considerable trouble in adjusting, seemed to struggle with things even when David had been with him, but David had honestly thought Nick was coping remarkably well, considering all he had been through. Had he been so wrong in his judgement, or so blinded by confusion over his own feelings he had missed how Nick really felt? 

Sitting back in his seat as he realised he had forgotten to put on his seat belt, David puzzled over what he would do once he arrived back in Westminster as he pulled it across his chest and clicked the catch home. Nick's flight was to Amsterdam, and presumably there would be a connecting flight from there to somewhere closer to the Cook Islands. He recalled reading that Nick had gone through Los Angeles International during his return to the UK. 

The information was not useful, however, since David could hardly contact any of the airports Nick might use and cause an international incident over... what was this anyway? 

In his haste to reach the airport David had not really thought about why he wanted so desperately for Nick to stay. He only knew he felt a keen panicky sensation whenever he thought he might not see Nick again, an enormous and oppressing feeling of emptiness that loomed darkly overhead, ready to swallow him whole. 

How could everyone else be so calm about this? Surely they must feel the same sense of loss and confusion and heartbreak David did? Someone, at least one person out of the people Nick had told, must have told Nick they wanted him to stay. Surely? 

Either they had not or Nick had not listened, and David felt suddenly furious that none of them had told him of the situation before this morning. Clearly the knowledge was common enough that George had heard, why not himself?

  


By the time he arrived back in Westminster, David was fuming. His face reddened and his eyes narrow with rage, he stormed into the first office his feet carried him to, unaware it was Simon's until he opened the door without knocking. 

‘Out,’ David snapped at the young female aide who was sitting with Simon. The woman jumped up and scurried from the room, looking shocked and a little frightened. 

‘Steady on, David,’ Simon said, eyebrows raised in surprise at David's abrupt entrance. ‘There's no need to scare the poor girl.’ 

‘Why didn't you tell me?’ David demanded, his voice high and angry. He walked to Simon's desk and placed his palms flat against the surface, leaning forward and looking at Simon furiously. 

‘Tell you what?’ Simon asked. 

‘About Nick,’ David shouted. ‘That he was leaving.’ Simon stared at him in confusion. 

‘I thought Nick told you,’ he said. ‘I didn't know myself until last night when he called and said he wouldn't need a place to stay.’ 

‘And you agreed?’ David exclaimed loudly. ‘You just let him go back without even trying to stop him?’ He stomped his way across the floor to the window and stood there in silence, trying to restrain his anger. 

‘Stop him? Why would I stop–’ 

‘Why?’ David yelled, wheeling around to face Simon again. ‘You mean to tell me you think it's a good idea for him to go back there?’ 

‘Not at first, but after he explained it, it made a lot of sense. I don't understand why you're so worked up,’ Simon frowned. 

‘Because I love–’ David snapped his mouth shut, eyes wide as he realised what he had been about to say. He sank down onto the nearest chair, trembling and breathing hard. Simon tilted his head to one side, a kindly half-smile replacing his frown. 

‘I did wonder how long I would have to watch you wallowing around here before you realised that,’ Simon said. He got up and put his hand on David's shoulder, squeezing gently. 

‘What?’ David mumbled, still reeling. 

The words milled around inside his head, tumbling over themselves with a sort of hypnotic fascination, as if they had been there all along, waiting to be recognised. 

I love Nick. I love _Nick_. I _love_ Nick. 

‘I said I wondered–’ Simon started, but then stopped, studying David carefully for a few moments. He crossed the room and poured a measure of whisky into one of the crystal glasses that sat on the bureau, returning to where David was sitting in stunned silence and handing it to him. ‘I think you could use this, judging by the look on your face.’ 

‘I– Thank you,’ David replied, downing the whisky in one gulp and feeling it burn his throat. 

‘Of all the places where I thought the penny might drop, I never dreamed it would be while you were standing in my office,’ Simon chuckled, taking the empty glass from David's hand. He reached out and put it on the edge of his desk. 

‘Sorry,’ David breathed. 

‘Oh, don't be. I feel honoured, in a strange sort of way.’ Simon waved his hand. ‘At least now I won't have to put up with the pair of you pining. I swear I've wanted to bash your heads together this past week, anyone can see you're completely smitten with each other.’ 

‘Then why did he leave?’ David asked sadly. He lowered his head, feeling upset all over again by Nick's return to Penrhyn. ‘He didn't even say goodbye.’ 

‘Goodbye?’ Simon echoed, sounding lost. Then David heard him gasp, and Simon's hand was gently patting his back. 

‘No wonder you stormed in here looking ready to hang me from the rafters,’ Simon said. He rubbed David's back vigorously a few times before adding, ‘He's coming back, you know.’ 

‘What?’ David squeaked, his head snapping up. 

‘Nick,’ Simon smiled. ‘He went to Penrhyn with Doctor Rimbaugh, some sort of farewell as part of his therapy, and to collect his belongings. He's not staying there, David. He will be back on Saturday.’


	12. Chapter 12

# Chapter Twelve

  


On Friday night at a quarter to nine, David was sitting in his office amidst a stack of papers, methodically sifting through them while he decided which of them absolutely could not wait until Monday to be dealt with. He worked carefully, with deliberate attention to the task before him, and was not particularly mindful of the time since he had no other plans for the evening; no matter what time he went home he would still find himself fretting over what he was going to say tomorrow. 

_Tomorrow!_

David's heart leapt at the thought and for a moment he lost the thread of what he was reading. It was something he had found happening at regular intervals, the frequent flurries of restless excitement becoming increasingly pronounced as the week wore on and the day of Nick's return drew ever closer. 

He had considered meeting Nick at the airport, with visions of Nick's face brightening as he saw David waiting for him and the frankly ludicrous idea of launching himself into Nick's arms like some over exuberant young lover would do to their sweetheart. 

When he had dismissed these thoughts as ridiculous, the product of his lovestruck state of mind, David had left a faltering message on Nick's voicemail asking Nick to call him as soon as he got back, along with the tentative suggestion they could meet with each other on Saturday afternoon. 

That was the reason why David was sitting silently in his office at such a late hour, flipping through all manner of paperwork; he was taking the weekend off. 

Simon had been instantly receptive to the idea of taking charge of the country for the weekend, and David had flushed scarlet at Simon's reaction to his blatantly transparent reasons for wanting Saturday and Sunday away from the office; the older man had smiled slyly, his brown eyes twinkling as he commented it would not be a problem. David had almost expected to be patted on the arm and told to 'go get him, tiger'. 

David was immensely grateful for Simon's understanding. His concern for Nick, and to a lesser degree David, had an air that was almost paternal, as though he were a worrisome father watching over an only child, determined no one would have the chance of hurting them if it could be helped and doing what he could to ensure their happiness. 

Shaking his head as he realised he had become lost in his thoughts, David set his mind back to his work, hearing the muted chimes of Big Ben from outside the window as it struck nine o'clock. Shortly after the sound ceased, David heard a small knock on the door that connected his and Simon's offices via the short corridor. 

‘Come in,’ David called, his attention still turned to the papers before him. He began to order them again, not really concerned with whatever Simon wanted, but after a few moments had passed and Simon still had not spoken, David looked up with an impatient frown. ‘I'm busy here, Simon, so hurry up and–’ 

Nick was standing in the doorway, a nervous look on his face as he waited in silence. He was holding a large object wrapped in heavy cloth and eyeing David with uncertainty. 

‘Nick,’ David gasped. 

‘Simon said it would be okay for me to stop by,’ Nick mumbled, dropping his gaze to the floor. ‘If you're busy I can–’ 

‘No,’ David blurted, jumping up from his seat. ‘I wasn't expecting, I mean, I thought you would be back tomorrow. Come in, come in.’ 

‘I managed to get a direct flight from Los Angeles,’ Nick said, closing the door and taking a few steps forward. ‘I won't take up too much of your time. I only came to give you this.’ He placed the cloth covered item on David's desk and backed away a few steps. ‘It's one of the things I brought back with me. I wanted you to have it.’ 

Moving to the other side of his desk, David stretched out his hand to unwrap the object Nick had left there. 

‘What is it?’ he asked. 

‘I made it,’ Nick answered softly, hovering about a foot away from where David was standing. ‘Took forever to get it right but–’ Nick stopped abruptly as David unfolded the edges of the cloth and looked at what was inside. When he continued, his voice was a little too loud. 

‘Too much time for thinking and all that,’ he said, and waved his hand. 

‘Nick, this is exquisite,’ David breathed, staring down in shock. 

The old, battered piece of driftwood wrapped in the cloth had been smoothed down, and carved into its surface was a near perfect representation of the Houses of Parliament. David ran his hand over the image, feeling the coarse wood beneath his fingers and admiring the level of detail. It must have taken months to make with the tools that were available to Nick. 

‘I–It seemed right, for–’ Nick said falteringly. As he spoke, Nick's eyes were closed, and each word was said slowly, as though it took considerable effort. David looked at him curiously, frowning. 

Nick was lying to him; alternately clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides as he recited the fabricated reason why he had brought the wood carving to David's office. 

‘–for you to have it. You being Prime Minister.’ 

‘Nick,’ David said quietly, gently taking hold of Nick's arm. 

‘Unless you'd like a chess set instead,’ Nick continued, opening his eyes to look at David and smiling widely. There was no happiness on Nick's face, even with the smile; he looked like he was about to cry, and seeing it made David feel slightly heartbroken. ‘I have half a dozen of those so if you'd rather–’ 

‘Nick,’ David repeated, taking one step closer and bringing his hand to Nick's face. 

At the touch, Nick inhaled shakily, turning his head away and breaking the contact. 

‘Don't,’ he whispered sharply, his face screwed up in pain. He shook his head, hands clenching again and beginning to tremble. ‘I shouldn't have come.’ 

With his head bowed and his shoulders slumped, Nick turned away, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave. He made it to the door before David had a chance to react, but once there the frantic, uncoordinated movements of his hands left him tugging on the handle as he unsuccessfully attempted to get it open. It gave David enough time to catch up with him, and he grabbed hold of Nick's hand, using it to spin Nick around to face him. 

‘David, please,’ Nick implored, his voice small and urgent. ‘Let me go. I have to go.’ 

David tugged Nick to him and wrapped his arms around Nick's shoulders, hugging him close as Nick began to babble rapid, upset words against his chest, repeating his plea that David let him leave but not struggling against David's hold on him. 

‘Please, I can't do this. I told him I didn't want to do this. I told him it was... Please, David? I need more time, that's all. Just a bit, a bit more time and then I'll be able to see you without, without it hurting that I don't get to have you. I know I don't get– Please, I know, I–I–I–’ 

Unable to stand the misery in Nick's voice, the terrible stuttering of his words as he begged for more time to lessen his heartache, David did the only thing he could think of to stop it; he lifted Nick's chin and kissed him, brushing the backs of his fingers across Nick's cheek. 

‘You already have me,’ he whispered against Nick's lips. 

‘You don't mean that,’ Nick choked out, clutching at the material of David's shirt, his expression hopeful and hopeless all at once. 

‘Every word,’ David answered, kissing Nick at the corners of his mouth. ‘Every word. I love you.’ 

‘David, don't say that,’ Nick sobbed, though at the words he leaned into David's upper body and wrapped his arms around David's middle. 

‘I thought I'd never see you again,’ David confessed, holding Nick tightly and running his fingers through the smooth strands of Nick's hair. ‘I thought you had gone back to stay. God, Nick, don't ever scare me like that again.’ 

‘I'm sorry,’ Nick said, his words muffled against the material of David's shirt. ‘I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't– because I didn't want to call you when, when– Arthur said I had to let go, that's why I went back. Only I didn't _want_ to let you go, too, and I kept telling him I wasn't ready to see you.’ 

‘Shh,’ David soothed, crushing Nick against him, only half-understanding what Nick was talking about. He puzzled it over in his mind while they stood silently embracing each other and realised Nick had be coerced into coming to his office, had not wanted to do so at all. 

Confused, David asked, ‘Didn't you get my messages?’ 

‘What messages?’ 

‘I left messages on your voicemail while you were away,’ David explained. 

‘I don't know how to check it,’ Nick said. He lifted his head from David's shoulder to look at him, biting his lip in embarrassment. ‘I tried to listen to them but the phone kept asking me to record a message first and– What did they say?’ 

‘I'll show you how to listen to them later,’ David replied. He hugged Nick again, sighing happily and staying quiet for several minutes before asking, ‘Will you come home with me?’ 

Nick laughed quietly, nodding against David's shoulder. 

‘Yes.’ 

‘Let me put these reports away. Won't be a minute,’ David said, letting go of Nick and smiling at him. Nick smiled back, his gaze soft and happy. 

‘I left some things in Simon's office,’ he told David, stepping toward the door. ‘I should get them, if you, that is if you don't mind me dragging them up to your flat?’ 

‘No, not at all,’ David smiled. He began to pick up the papers that were scattered over his desk as Nick left the room, placing them hastily and a little untidily into folders and stacking the folders on the corner of his desk. He was almost finished when Nick came back, and David turned to see he had a holdall slung over his shoulder and was carrying a large box with pieces of wood sticking out of the top. Placing the last folder on his desk, David walked over to Nick. 

‘What's all that?’ he asked, puzzled. 

‘Six chess sets, a lot of carved animals, cups, a bowl, a half made–’ 

‘Why did you make six chess sets?’ David interrupted. 

‘I had a lot of time on my hands,’ Nick said, shrugging. ‘You'd be surprised how quickly staring at the ocean gets boring when you can do it whenever you like.’ 

‘But six chess sets,’ David commented as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. He opened his office door and gestured for Nick to follow him into the corridor. ‘You didn't even have anyone to play against.’ 

‘I didn't make them to play chess,’ Nick explained, waiting as David closed the door and started toward the stairs. ‘I made them to keep busy.’ 

‘Right,’ David said, though he did not really understand. 

The security guard at the door of number ten looked momentarily shocked at seeing the prime minister leading his former coalition partner toward the upper floor, but as David turned the corner and started up the steps, he saw the man's face quirk with amusement and felt like he was back in university, sneaking someone up to his room for the night. The thought made him smile.

  


Inside the flat, David closed the door and turned to Nick, taking the box Nick held and setting it down carefully on the sideboard. Nick stood by the door as David quietly put his jacket on a hanger. When he turned around, Nick was smiling at him. 

‘What?’ David asked. 

‘You redecorated,’ Nick said, dropping his bag on the floor out of the way. 

‘Yes,’ David nodded. ‘I forgot you never got to see it before you left.’ 

‘It's nice,’ Nick complimented, looking around. ‘Very homely.’ 

‘Would you like a tour?’ David offered politely. He walked over to Nick and held out his hand for Nick to take, grinning as Nick slid his own into it. But when David went to lead the way to the kitchen, Nick stood fast, tugging David back until they were facing each other in front of the door. 

‘I don't think I want a tour,’ Nick said, looking at David intently, his eyes round and sincere. He took a step closer. David felt his stomach flutter restlessly as Nick's hand came to rest on his hip. 

‘Tea?’ David asked dumbly, mouth dry. Nick shook his head, another step bringing his and David's bodies together, their chests touching. David's head clouded, and he responded with surprise as Nick kissed him, the nervousness and uncertainty David had grown used to in Nick's manner gone completely; Nick's movements were not shy or hesitant but bold and demanding. 

‘Bedroom, David,’ Nick whispered against his lips, hands already unbuttoning David's shirt and making David realise he was simply standing there as Nick stripped him of his clothes, along with the ability to form coherent thought. 

Stepping backwards, he dragged Nick with him, trying not to stumble as he forced his hands to stop shaking. He tugged Nick's top over his head, moaning as Nick's lips found his own again before the t-shirt had even hit the floor. 

Backing along the hallway to the bedroom, David grabbed frantically behind himself for the door handle. As he pushed it down, the door flew open, sending him and Nick spilling into the room. They stumbled, Nick holding on to him and guiding him toward the double bed, where they fell onto the mattress, shifting until they were facing each other with their heads on the pillows. 

David smiled, kissing Nick tenderly to hide his growing nervousness. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, each beat pounding loudly in his ears as he started to register something like fear and desire and urgency all rolled together, combined into something that made him tremble and robbed him of the ability to speak. 

No one had ever looked at him the way Nick did, with eyes that seemed to see him as the world and everything in it, and he had never taken someone to his bed knowing they loved him; that he loved them in return. 

‘You're shaking,’ Nick said softly, moving until they were flush against one another, his arm resting on David's side. 

‘I, uh,’ David stammered, closing his eyes. Nick kissed him, slow and sweet. 

‘I thought being nervous was my thing,’ he whispered. 

‘Seems not,’ David answered. He gulped, wetting his lips with his tongue and opening his eyes. ‘No one's ever looked at me the way you do.’ 

‘How do I look at you, David?’ Nick asked, the soft grey of his eyes shining as he held David's gaze. 

‘Like that,’ David breathed. He buried his head between Nick and the pillow, his mouth close to Nick's ear. 

‘Should I kiss you instead?’ Nick whispered, lips brushing gently across David's neck, softly trailing kisses along his throat and bare shoulder, in a line over his collar bone. 

‘I love you,’ David whispered, feeling it then, the emotion behind the words swelling in his chest. His stomach flopped wildly as Nick made a high pitched noise against his skin, breath hitching loudly in his throat. 

‘David, I–I–’ Nick gasped, his expression uncertain for the first time since they had left David's office. 

‘Tell me,’ David pleaded, desperate to hear the words, for Nick to say them on purpose when he knew David was listening. Biting his lip, his eyes shiny and brow furrowed in the middle, Nick looked at him longingly, as though he were gathering his courage within, struggling against the last part of himself that said he could not have this happy ending after all he had been through. 

David touched his face, brushed away the beginnings of tears at the corner of Nick's eye and whispered again, ‘Please, tell me.’ 

‘I love you,’ Nick breathed, soft and quiet, closing his eyes as more tears gathered in beads along his eyelashes. David kissed him; once, then twice, leaning up from the mattress with his neck aching. 

‘I'm yours,’ David said unevenly, aware he was babbling but not caring. ‘Nick, I'm yours.’ 

His eyes were watery and his body shaking; his hand on Nick's face as he drew Nick a little closer, kissing him as deeply as he could while he drew shallow, uneven breaths. Nick moaned his name, and David felt a tiny, almost imperceptible shift, an inflection in the tone of Nick's voice indicating he had accepted, finally _believed_ , that it was true. 

The mood moved, moulded itself around the change, transformed into something more evenly balanced, where each of them was equally loved and loving, equally vulnerable. 

The preceding years and all the things that had happened since Nick came home flashed through David's mind; the search and rescue operation, the funeral, crying alone in this very bed with his heart aching, and the helplessness of his fight to deny his feelings for Nick all laid bare for what it was. What it had been all along. 

David held Nick to him, laughing and crying and allowing the feelings that had lain dormant in his heart for so many years to come to life at last, lighting up like the sun after a long, cold winter. He kissed Nick's face, pressed their cheeks together, and whispered words he had never said before. 

‘Make love to me.’

  


Much later, when they had collapsed, shaking and sweating and panting, for a second time, and David had pulled the duvet off of the floor, settling it over both of them, Nick lifted his head to look at David in the half-light of the bedroom. 

‘David?’ he whispered. 

‘Mm,’ David hummed. 

‘What are we going to do now?’ 

David turned on his side and kissed Nick tenderly, smiling. 

‘I'm getting on a bit, you know. I don't think I can manage three times in one night.’ 

‘That's not what I meant,’ Nick blushed, pressing his face to David's bare chest. 

‘Ah,’ David said. ‘Time for me to be serious, is it? In that case, I thought you could stay here tonight.’ 

‘Really?’ Nick squeaked, looking up in surprise. ‘What about– I mean people would know, about you and me.’ 

‘They already know,’ David answered. ‘At least, Simon knows. George knows, which means Danny knows, and the entire Treasury likely does as well.’ David grinned and rubbed Nick's back, chuckling, ‘And after the noise you were making earlier, I think it's safe to say everyone here knows, too.’ 

‘David,’ Nick snickered, once again hiding his face. 

‘That would be precisely what they heard,’ David teased, kissing Nick's temple, which was the only part of Nick he could reach. 

‘Do you have to be so, so flippant about it?’ Nick mumbled. 

‘I dare say they're used to it, and you must sound a damn sight better than Cherie Blai– Ow, did you just pinch me?’ 

‘It was the only way to get you to shut up,’ Nick said, raising his head and regarding David sternly. 

‘Not the only way,’ David winked. Nick shook his head, his expression perilously close to a smile, and flopped down onto his back. 

‘You're incorrigible,’ he said to the ceiling. 

David leaned up on his elbow, resting his head on his hand and looking down as Nick pretended to be cross. 

‘What will you do?’ David asked, stroking Nick's chest and enjoying the sensation of Nick's chest hair tickling his fingers. ‘Do you think you will go back into politics?’ 

‘No, I don't think I could,’ Nick replied, though he did not look saddened, merely thoughtful. ‘I'm still... not doing so well at being around people. It's getting better but– Anyway I've been contacted by a publisher, they want me to write a book about Penrhyn.’ 

‘What kind of book?’ 

‘Something about how I survived, what it was like, that sort of thing,’ Nick answered. He turned onto his side and nuzzled his face against David's neck. ‘Don't worry, I'm not going to write that I spent five years dreaming about the prime minister giving me a hug.’ 

‘That's good,’ David chuckled. ‘It would be very short if that's all you had in it.’ 

‘Oh, I don't know,’ Nick said, smiling slyly. ‘Some of my dreams were _very_ detailed.’ 

‘Were they?’ David raised his eyebrows. 

‘They were,’ Nick nodded. He pulled David down for a kiss, grinning as he whispered, ‘And for some of them, I wasn't even asleep.’ 

‘You definitely shouldn't put _those_ in your book,’ David laughed. He stretched his arm out behind Nick's head, lying down fully and yawning as Nick settled comfortably. 

‘So you're going to accept the offer, I take it?’ he asked soberly. 

‘I think so,’ Nick answered. ‘Arthur says it will be a good opportunity to, how did he put it, finish that chapter of my life, or some such. But I want to do it. If anything, at least I will have it clear in my head.’ 

‘This would be the same Arthur who sent you to my office to give me a parting gift,’ David muttered. 

‘I know you don't like him,’ Nick said calmly, shooting David a stern look when he tried to protest. ‘You don't, and it's obvious you don't, so stop denying it.’ 

David closed his eyes and fell silent. He did not like Arthur, did not like the way he pushed Nick to do things that hurt, even if he could see that sometimes Nick needed to be pushed. Nick stroked David's cheek softly. 

‘He only does what he thinks I need, David.’ 

‘What does he say about me?’ David asked. 

‘That I fixated on a fantasy of you,’ Nick answered honestly. ‘That my feelings are more for the idea of you than they are for you, and that I'm trying to cling to something familiar because nothing else is.’ 

David felt unexpectedly hurt at Nick's therapist's view of their relationship. He rubbed his forehead, scratching an itch with his fingernails, and lay in silence. 

‘It's not true,’ Nick whispered in his ear. ‘Maybe it was when I first got back, when everything scared me and you were the only friendly face in a sea of confusion, but I– Christ, you're about ten times more annoying than anything I ever pictured. You're stubborn and pig-headed. It takes you forever to admit when you're wrong about something. You make terrible jokes at all the wrong times and you keep silent when you should be speaking up, and–’ 

‘This isn't really making me feel better,’ David pouted. 

‘– _and_ ,’ Nick repeated. ‘You make me laugh, even your daft Star Trek jokes make me laugh. When I'm with you I feel happy for no reason at all other than you're there. You're not perfect, you're not anything at all like I thought you would be, but you're real, David, and it's you I love, not some fantasy.’ 

‘I get the idea,’ David said softly, stopping Nick's words with a kiss. 

‘Good, because whatever problems I have, none of them are about you and me. The rest of it; not eating properly, sleeping on the floor, being scared...’ Nick gestured with his hand, falling silent for a moment before continuing. ‘That will get better with time. And whatever Arthur thinks about this, I still need him.’ 

‘I know. I'm sorry.’ 

Nick sighed, resting his head on David's shoulder. He took hold of David's hand and entwined their fingers. 

‘I'll be ready to tell you one day, David.’ 

‘I'll be here when you are,’ David mumbled. He curled himself a little tighter around Nick's body, kissing Nick on the forehead. ‘However long it takes.’


	13. Chapter 13

# Epilogue

  


Warm and comfortable, completely covered by duvet and with Nick wrapped around him, David blinked awake at some time around eight-thirty in the morning. He yawned, turning his head outward, his cheek brushing against the soft cotton of the duvet cover, and then gave a contented hum as he shifted his weight on the bed so he could hug Nick closer. 

Nick did not stir, and David kissed him lightly on the cheek, smiling to himself as he closed his eyes and lay in silence. 

A short while later, David felt Nick wiggle his foot, his instep moving back and forth across David's leg, toes curling as if to hug the skin there. 

‘Good morning,’ David whispered as Nick opened his eyes. 

‘Good morning,’ Nick sighed happily. 

‘Did you sleep well?’ David asked, pressing lazy kisses to Nick's mouth. Nick nodded, moaning low in his throat, his fingers stroking the small of David's back. ‘Would you like breakfast?’ 

‘Mm,’ Nick hummed. ‘Breakfast sounds perfect. What would we have?’ 

‘Anything you want,’ David said. ‘Though I quite fancy a bacon sandwich.’ 

‘Oh, bacon,’ Nick said longingly. David laughed. 

‘Haven't you had bacon since you got back?’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Well, clearly this is a situation that cannot be allowed to continue.’ David wiggled a little, running his hand down Nick's side and kissing him again. ‘Would you like anything with your bacon? Tea? Coffee? Orange juice?’ 

‘You,’ Nick breathed against his mouth. 

‘I'm not sure I'm on the menu,’ David said teasingly. 

‘You did say anything I wanted,’ Nick replied. 

David did not answer. He brushed his lips lightly over Nick's, curling his hand at the back of Nick's neck. The phone on the bedside table rang, and David groaned unhappily, sticking his hand out from under the duvet and grabbing hold of the receiver. 

‘Hello?’ David answered, trying to ignore Nick's hand as it made its way across his stomach. 

‘David,’ George's voice said. He started to say something else but David interrupted. 

‘I'm taking the weekend off, George. Call Simon.’ 

‘I hear Nick spent the night,’ George replied. 

‘So?’ 

‘I'm not the only one who heard.’ George sounded annoyed. 

‘What's your point?’ David asked, only half paying attention. He suppressed an involuntary noise as Nick kissed his neck. 

‘Don't you think you should deal with this?’ 

‘I'm hanging up now, George. If there's anything urgent that needs to be dealt with, call Simon.’ 

David pressed the disconnect button while George was mid-reply. He looked at the phone for a few seconds and then sat up, folding the duvet away from his face. Smiling, David launched the phone through the open bedroom door and out into the hallway, where it clattered to the floor and slid off toward the living room. 

‘Problem?’ Nick asked as David lay down and pulled the duvet back over them. 

‘Our secret is out,’ David answered. 

‘Oh.’ Nick looked at David thoughtfully. ‘I can go if–’ 

‘Don't you bloody dare,’ David muttered, pulling Nick into a hug. ‘I'm not going to let some backward thinking idiots–’ He stopped, looking at Nick apologetically, and then said honestly, ‘I can't lose you again. I don't care what they say.’ 

Nick smiled at him and stroked his face. 

‘You won't lose me.’ 

Smiling back, David took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Then he said, ‘It's not like they can make much of a fuss. Gay marriage is legal now.’ 

‘That an offer?’ Nick snorted jokingly. 

‘Is that a yes?’ David asked without thinking. 

Then, realising what he had said, he quickly looked at Nick, swallowing hard. Nick was staring at him, expression faintly terrified and mouth open in shock. 

‘Right, well,’ David babbled, attempting to make light of his question. ‘That would be–’ 

‘Absurd,’ Nick supplied, nodding. ‘Completely, completely absurd.’ 

‘Absolutely mad,’ David agreed, unconsciously mirroring Nick's movements. He met Nick's eyes with his own and found himself suddenly whispering, ‘Say yes.’ 

‘Yes,’ Nick whispered back almost immediately, with a sharp intake of breath. 

‘I don't have a ring,’ David said, gulping as the gravity of the situation began to sink in. 

‘I don't need one,’ Nick responded. 

‘Right.’ David smiled nervously. He leaned forward and kissed Nick lightly on the lips. ‘So, that's, uh– Are there any other life changing decisions we'll be making today?’ 

Nick kissed him again, laughing and resting his forehead against David's. ‘Let's just have breakfast,’ he mumbled. ‘I believe someone promised me bacon.’


End file.
